Catch me if you can
by Jena Rink
Summary: Running is all Sophia has ever known, following the clues her mother left her hoping to find the answers..hoping to find her family. Tiva, McAbby. Is not Tiva at first but deals heavily with their relationship.
1. Part One

Catch Me if you Can

Part One

Jena Rink

**Okay, so the Paperwork story fits into this universe...I think that's all you need to know besides the fact that I literally stayed up until 3am posting this for you guys, :) And that italics are most likely flashbacks, or the played back recording of something (like if Abby is playing a sound on her computer). And that I dont own NCIS. And that...Tony, and Ziva as a couple, will not appear in this story for quite some time. But it does deal heavily with them and their relationship, and what it resulted in. It takes place about 20 years after Season 7, and I have taken some plot liberties when writing this. And I think I need a beta. I write too fast. **

**But please tell me what you think. I really have enjoyed writing this, a lot. A lot A lot A lot. I tried to read over this get the mistakes out of the way, but Microsoft Word is not perfect. So without further ado, read, review and enjoy :) **

**-Jena **

Her eyes were closed tightly as she attempted to rest without garnering attention to herself, the Eurostar train underneath the English Channel causing her ears to pop every so often. It had been this way for years. She couldn't remember the last time she'd stopped running, stopped long enough to look behind her into her past. Long enough to even remember her past. She was being paranoid. She opened her eyes slowly, and saw a spare newspaper sitting on the chair next to her, the date mocking her. _May 12, __2027. _She had to start acting normal. People were going to notice. It wasn't often that people her age acted as if there was a murderer around every corner. But it was the way things had been for her for quite some time. If she was a normal teenager, she'd be ogling the guy in the seat across from her, wondering how to start a conversation.

She didn't feel 17 years old. It seemed unreal that it was her birthday. She wasn't even sure who she was yet. Her entire existence had centered around protecting herself. She never had the time to trust anyone, to let anyone into her life. It was too risky. Her first memories were of running. The knife, the man cowered in the corner, her mother's frantic words, Mexico, and her surrogate father. Until he had died as well. And she'd spent the majority of the last three years running, relying on her good looks and ability to blend in, using the clues that had been left for her. She was an interesting mix. Dirty blonde hair, thick and wavy, ran down her back in shiny waves, her skin a soft olive color, her big brown eyes flecked with gold and green. She could pass for American, Indian, Israeli, pretty much anything she wanted to. She knew five languages, she knew how to handle a gun, and she was much smarter than her 17 years. Because she had been taught that way. There was no room for childhood. That ended when she killed her first man.

"Its so…hot in Paris," the man across from her said," You're a little overdressed," her jeans and jacket were incredibly heavy. She sighed, glancing down at the book in her lap, and up at his naval uniform. She'd been playing this game for years, hoping to find someone that knew him. It was stupid game, but the small child that was buried within her could not help herself. She didn't get to have fun a lot. It would help her interrogation skills, she reasoned, looking up to answer him.

"I came from St. Petersburg. It was cold there," she explained quietly, and the boy cracked a smile. He'd been staring at her the entire ride. She'd been doing a little staring herself. It kept things interesting. Boys were the perfect distraction.

He was the perfect American. Blonde hair, blue eyes, tan, his Navy uniform making him look incredibly dashing. He was probably at least 4 years older than her, but that didn't stop her.

"You don't look Russian," he said, and she raised an eyebrow. He was observant.

"That's because I'm not…"she responded, her voice a sultry mix of an Israeli, Spanish, and American accent.

"I'm pretty good at pointing out faces," he said," My dad taught me…but-"she cut him off, a small smile on her face, enjoying his boyish charm. He would be easy to fool if she needed to. But she didn't want to take advantage of him. He seemed too kind.

"I would assume that I'm hard to point out then," she responded, and he stuck out his hand. She shook it tentatively.

"I'm Connor," she pretended to notice his uniform for the first time, her eyes lighting up in excitement.

"You're in the Navy, yes?" she responded, and he nodded.

"I'm on leave," he explained, "USS Enterprise. I'm a Petty Officer."

"And this is where I give you my name?" she asked, biting her lip, and he shrugged. That would make things easier.

"You don't have to if you don't want to," he told her, and she shook her head, glancing around her, noticing their compartment was empty. She could ask further questions.

"Where do you live in the United States?" she questioned, and he made a face.

"Washington. My dad is a Senator," he said, rolling his eyes.

"And you joined the Navy to escape from him," she stated, and he nodded.

"I go back in a week…he wants me to start college. He's annoyed with me, I'm sure," Connor said, and she laughed softly, observing the way he held himself. Maybe he would be the one that could help her.

"What base are you stationed at?" she ventured, and he frowned.

"You know, you sure do know a lot about the Navy," he said, and she held up the book in her hands.

"Oh, I love those books!" he said, and noticed the cover, "Its autographed?" he questioned, and she sighed, staring down at the inscription.

"I don't think it is real," she commented," My mother loved these books…she was almost obsessed with them when I was little, reading them to me before bed every night," he stared at her, entranced.

"Your mom read you spy books before bed?" she nodded, staring at the inscription. It wasn't even the author's name. And it was hard to read. Her Mother's name was discernable.

"I love the characters," he said, walking over to sit next to her. She was slightly apprehensive, not many people got close to her these days. But for the sake of blending in, Connor seemed a nice enough cover.

"Oh me too. The story of Lisa and Tommy is very…interesting," she breathed, staring out the window, "I cried when she died," she added softly, watching the blackness out the window.

"It was pretty sad," he agreed, and swallowed. He was nervous. She could tell.

"Listen, my dad has a suite at the Intercontinental…"he started, and she glanced down at her lap for a moment,"And it has extra rooms, and you kind of seem like you'd need a place to stay…"he trailed off ,and she smiled at him.

"Your father has taught you how to read people very well in that respect. I do not have a hotel room at the moment. I was going to get one when I arrived, but I will stay with you if you'd like," she said, and he grinned,"And I will have to change my pants. I don't believe I can be in jeans there, yes?" she said, and he laughed.

"Been there before?" he asked her, and she shrugged nonchalantly, her mind flooded with memories.

"Not that Intercontinental. There are others, you know," she informed him quietly.

"You're very mysterious, you know," he responded, "And I think I want to take you to dinner," he added, and she raised an eyebrow.

"Dinner would be nice," she remarked, a smile creeping onto her face as they came up from the tunnel and Paris shone in the distance.

She always found herself in Paris. It was easy to get lost in the Romance of the city, regardless of how dirty it was sometimes. When she got off the train with him, she didn't see anyone tailing her.

"Do you want to go to the hotel and change first?" he asked her, and she nodded, surprised when a limo pulled up for them. He was too young to be evil, she decided, before getting in the limousine with him. She could always shoot him if he posed to be a problem.

"Are you in school?" he asked, and she shook her head.

"I had tutors. I completed my high school work when I was 14," she said softly, and he frowned.

"Mr. Marks, this young lady will be accompanying you?" the bellhop asked, and he nodded, both of them walking towards the elevator after he had tipped the man generously.

"I see why you would want to join the Navy. Living like royalty all the time can get annoying," she said sarcastically, and he laughed.

"It seems like you would know that," Connor responded, opening the door to the room,"In that door over there is a bedroom and shower…I'm going to go take one too, okay?" she nodded, staring after him as he walked towards the bedroom.

She hadn't showered in a few days. The water felt refreshing against her skin, and she stepped out of the bathroom, her towel around her securely, there was a man standing in the doorway. She couldn't see his face.

"Connor?" she questioned quietly, and he moved, the gun pointing straight at her.

It was not Connor. She had gotten another man killed. It had been stupid to even assume for a second that they were not following her.

"Do you know how much money I will have if I bring you back alive as opposed to dead. Its really a pity," the man said, his eyes scanning over her towel clad frame.

She opened her mouth to scream, and he shook his head.

"You make a sound, and you're dead, Sophia," her heart plummeted into her stomach.

"What do you want from me? You already killed my family, I suppose that should be enough for you!" she said her voice slightly emotional.

"Your mother was much better than you at keeping her emotions under control," he responded, and she tried to remember where her gun was. In the bathroom. She was an idiot.

He inched towards her, and she backed up until she was against the wall, her panicked eyes staring straight at him.

She crouched down in the corner, her eyes portraying all the emotions she had been taught to make an attacker think she was being submissive. It was at the last second that her leg flew out of nowhere, knocking the gun out of his hands. And then he was on the ground, facedown, her hand pulling at the hair on his scalp.

"Go back to Israel," she breathed in his ear, his gun in her hand.

"And don't you ever use my mothers gun again," she added as an afterthought, knocking him out on the floor with the butt of the gun.

When she heard the floor boards creak, she spun around, the gun in her hand, pointing at...

"Oh my God," Connor breathed, staring at the man on the floor, and the rapidly developing black eye on her face.

"I think he caught the door when we came in to shower," she lied, bringing the gun down slowly.

"Are you alright?" he asked, and she nodded quickly.

"That is not the first time I have been attacked," she said, noticing his eyes scanning her body.

"How is your towel even still on?" he asked, and she motioned to the phone.

"I will get dressed if you call the police," she said, and he nodded,"It is probably best that I go," she added, and he sighed, taking a step towards her. She took a step back, the gun still firmly in her grasp.

"You don't have to go…it was just a robber…"he started, and she shook her head.

"You have been incredibly honest with me…but I cannot be honest with you. I hope too see you again, Connor," she said, walking back into the bathroom as he called the police.

She was out of the building 2 minutes later. Paris had been a very, very bad idea.

Twenty minutes later, she was booked into a seedy motel, laying on the bed and staring at the ceiling, her mind lost in memories.

"_You have to trust me," the man had said quietly, and she'd glanced at him, scowling. _

"_Where's my mother?" she shot back, and the older man glanced down at me._

"_I don't know if you're ready to hear the answer to that question, kid. It's safer if you're apart from her, and I owed a friend a favor." _

_Her warm brown eyes stared up at the man, a calculating look in them._

"_How do I know you won't kill me?" she questioned, her voice stronger than it should be for a six year olds. _

"_You're just going to have to trust me, kid," Mike Franks said softly, reaching his hand up to squeeze your shoulder, "Your mom is tough. You need to be tough too." _

So she'd lived up to it. She was a David for Christsakes. Although she couldn't go by that name, let alone let anyone know that she existed, she had the hardness and drive that she had always admired in her hazy recollections of her mother.

She'd been harsh when necessary, and so caring as well. She fingered the picture of her mother that was hiding in her breast pocket, glancing at her watch nervously. She had somewhere to be. No time for sleeping.

She glanced down at the supplies that had been provided to her at the last drop box. A name, Melody Sahiri, and documents supporting that, as well as 1,000 Euros in non sequential bills. It was time to move.

She smiled demurely at the man at the front desk, and slipped past him when his phone rang, taking the stairs two at a time until I had reached the top. It was best to move quickly. She didn't know when they were coming, or even if they were still following her. Because there was never just one. So she had to make this quick.

When he answered the door, she was everything her mother had depicted him as, Albeit much older. Almost twenty years older than the stories. He was retired now, and the last time she'd had any access to a computer, she'd looked up his travel plans.

"Can I help you?" the gun in his hand surprised her and she put my hands up slowly. His hand was trembling slightly.

"I'm not here to hurt you, Dr. Mallard," she said quietly, and his eyes scanned her face, perplexed.

"Have I met you before?" he questioned, and she shook her head slowly before staring him straight in the eyes, trying to get him to realize that she was someone he could trust.

"We have a friend in common…."she explained quietly, her hands still in the air.

"How did you know I was here?" he questioned.

"I hacked into your credit card account," she said simply, and he glanced out into the hallway. His eyes were scanning her again, trying to figure out where he knew her from.

"Its just me. I come alone," she told him, and he motioned for her to come inside.

"What can I do for you, Miss…"he trailed off, and she smiled. He was trying to get her to slip up and say her name.

"My name is Sophie," she told him," You are everything my friend spoke of…"she added, and he stared at her, confused, until his eyes settled on her wrist. The tattoo.

"You are Mossad?" he questioned, and she shook her head quickly.

"That would be against my better judgment, considering all that has happened to my family, Dr. Mallard," he grabbed her wrist, examining the small symbol, his eyes squinting.

"This tattoo must be almost 16 years old, " she nodded.

"It was forced upon my wrist. I did not want it. It is an identifying mark," she said quietly," I did not want it. Any of it. I have been running from it my entire life,"she finished in a whisper, pulling the envelope out of my bag and handing it to him.

"And what is this for?"

"The man that writes the Deep Six books. You are in them…"she said, and he frowned,"He can help me," she explained, and he stared at the envelope for a moment, realizing she was already out the door.

"Wait, Sophie…"she turned to look back at him, her eyes questioning.

"I like your necklace," he said, and she looked down at the star of david necklace she'd kept attached to her neck since she was six," I have seen only one like that before," he said, and she closed her eyes tightly for a moment.

"It was good to finally meet you, Dr. Mallard," she paused," I wish I could tell you why I am here. Its just not safe," she closed the door behind her, and he stared at the envelope, intrigued.

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"McGeek, you have the whiskey?" Abby snorted softly, staring across the couch at her coworker, a smile spreading across her face. It was pizza night. Although pizza night had long ended, and scotch night had begun. It was that time of year again, late May, when all their demons, as old as they were, came back to haunt them.

"Which one of us are you talking to?" she questioned, and Tony motioned silently over at Tim, who was staring at his laptop.

"You're McGoth, Abs. You know that," Tony said winking at her, "And McGee! Stop working. Its Friday night. The other team has duty this weekend, and we are finally getting a few well deserved days off…" he added.

"And yet we're still together," the woman on the other chair commented wryly, sharing a look with Abby, the non spoken communication that Tony was about to drink too much again. It wasn't as if they could stop him.

Chloe had been with the team for many years now, and everything seemed to fit in seamlessly. She was Tony's best friend, surprisingly, and was like Abby's sister. The only one she didn't get along with was Director Vance.

"Lo, get the whiskey, before McGee writes you into his next book," Tony teased, and she sighed, trying to get him to look at her. He always did this. It wasn't good for him.

"Are you sure you need any more?" she questioned lightly, and he shot her a look before getting up and grabbing the bottle himself and walking into the kitchen.

"Just…let him get trashed, Chlo…you know why we always have this weekend off," McGee commented, and she sighed, Abby rolling her eyes at Tim's acceptance of Tony's blatant alcoholism.

"Should I go talk to him?" Chloe ventured, and Abby opened her mouth to respond.

"Wouldn't recommend it," Tony commented from the doorway, setting down five shot glasses and filling them.

"You do not need five shot glasses, Tony," Chloe interjected, and he shook his head.

"No, I do…one for every important person I lost," he said, and Abby made a face.

"Tony, you do not need to do this to prove to them…"

"Kate, Jeanne, Paula, Jenny, and Ziva," he breathed, slamming back each shot quickly and leaning back into the couch, wincing.

"Tony," Abby said quietly, and he shook his head, staring at McGee, who had not said a word since his acceptance of the fact that Tony could just get drunk whenever he wanted. It wasn't going to fix things.

Chloe had rarely heard him talk about them. He changed the subject whenever their names were mentioned, and it seemed to be a common thing between him and Gibbs to get into intense staring matches over the women NCIS had lost, whether part of the team or not. It was an incredibly sore subject for the entire team.

"I'm going upstairs," Tony announced, and Abby sighed, staring over at Tim and then Chloe. Even though she was his best friend, she was completely unaware of Pre Chloe NCIS. The only access she had to it was files. Because no one else was talking.

There were pictures of Ziva, Kate, and Jen on Abby's bulletin boards, and Tim had one of them on his desk, from a Christmas party years ago. It was generally accepted that people died on the job. But the team she had come into had almost been like a family. It was hard to get her bearings at first.

"I'll make sure he gets to bed alright…"Abby said quietly, following him up the stairs and to his room, where he was laying facedown on his bed.

"You think any of them would want to see you like this?" she asked him quietly, and he mumbled something she couldn't understand against the comforter.

"Roll over and tell me what you're trying to say," she demanded, switching on the light he had turned off, "And stop falling asleep in your work clothes!" she added, annoyed.

"I said that I think Jeanne would enjoy it," Tony said, his voice slightly slurred,"Katie would blackmail me, Paula would kick my ass, Jenny would have told me I should have had bourbon, and-" he trailed off, starting to unbutton his shirt,"And Sophie…"

"Would call you an idiot, drowning your sorrows instead of moving on with your life!" Abby exploded, throwing her hands up, "We can't keep taking care of you for Ziva!" his eyes narrowed.

"Ziva, wouldn't, care." Tony seethed,"And don't say her name!"

"So you're going to drunkenly assault her memory then?" Abby shot back," Make a complete ass out of yourself?"

"You don't get it," Tony murmured, "Can you just…yell at me in the morning?" she huffed.

"The talk about this is going to happen. You aren't going to get past this until you face it, Tony…We miss her too," she left him alone, slamming the door behind her.

He stared at the ceiling for what seemed like hours, thinking of them. Kate's sarcastic banter and go getting attitude, the advice Jenny had given him concerning Jeanne, the smile on Jeanne's face when he asked her to live with him, Paula crashing through that door with the bomber, and finally, her.

Her long, thick black hair, her coy expressions and sexually charged conversations with him. The moments their eyes met on the bridge, working on a case. The days they spent undercover, Rivkin, their confrontation in Israel, her rescue in Somalia, their bathroom confrontation, and everything afterwards. It had seemed to move in a blur. And then she was gone, so quickly that he could hardly believe he'd finally had her. That it hadn't been just a dream. And then he was dreaming, the scene familiar.

"_You're not getting on a plane. Its too dangerous. And we haven't seen her in seven years. Just because you saw her on a ZNN feed, or thought you saw her, doesn't mean-" Tony pressed the emergency stop button, and the elevator came to a stop, the lights dimming. _

"_She needs our help!" he said in a low voice, glaring at Gibbs. _

"_Dinozzo! She's not ours. She made that abundantly clear when she left. Especially to you," Gibbs barked, and Tony glared at him from across the office._

"_Maybe I broke one of your rules. Maybe that's why Im concerned that the CIA is reporting that the entire upper crust of Mossad is being held hostage!" Tony said finally, through his teeth. _

"_Regardless of the rules you broke, if any, she obviously didn't feel the same way about you," Gibbs said back, surprised when Tony punched him in the face. That was the start of his first suspension. He'd stormed out of the office, avoiding the concerned gazes of McGee and Chloe, who first looked at his hands, which were tensed, and then at the developing black eye on Gibb's face. _

"_Get back to work, Matthews, McGee," he'd said, storming upstairs to the directors office as Tony banged through the doors and out of the office, feeling suffocated by the very thought of sitting at a desk while Ziva's life was in danger. _

Air traffic was halted in and out of Tel A Viv at that point, and by the time Tony could have even thought of getting there, it had been too late. The entire David family, so it seemed, had disappeared off the grid completely, along with a portion of Mossad itself. The organization was defunct. And when ten bodies were found off the coast of the Indian ocean, it didn't take quickly for the new officers of Mossad to declare them the bodies of the Davids, along with seven high security officers.

Tony had never forgiven Gibbs, even though he couldn't have done much, if anything, to help his situation. In compensation, he'd thrown himself into his work, not caring if he received any recognition. Just if he caught the bad guys. And he'd gotten even better at his job.

When he woke up, it was too the sun shining brightly in his face, reminding him that he got to live while so many of the people in his life were taken away from him. People, in his opinion, that certainly deserved to live their life even more then he did. Much more than he did.

"Ugh," he moaned, trying to fix his bed head, and realizing that he'd fallen asleep in his workclothes again. Abby had been telling him to stop doing that. What exactly had happened last night? He glanced over at his clock, and realized why.

"Oh God…."he mumbled, feeling sick suddenly, and got up, stumbling to the bathroom and turning the water on, removing his clothes and stepping under the warm spray.

He'd lived with Abby and McGee for almost fifteen years now. His apartment had gone co-op, and after Abby and Tim had married, they had the extra space, an apartment over the garage that was perfect for Tony. He was just over fifty years old now, and he could barely believe it had been so long since everything had happened.

He pulled on some running clothes, and walked downstairs, glancing over at Abby, who was reading a book silently in the living room.

"Abs," he started, and she glanced over her book, her eyes scanning him critically,"I'm going to go for a run," she shrugged.

"You do that. We have to go in at four,"he opened his mouth in protest, and she shot him a look."They need me in Forensics and you and Tim have a meeting with Vance," she said in a clipped tone. Tony sighed, kneeling down next to her.

"You know I hate it when you're mad at me," he said, glancing up at her, and she put her book down.

"You know I hate it when you drink a bottle of whiskey like that…its not good for you, and I hate it when my children see you do it. You're lucky they are at science camp, or I-" Tony's eyes brightened, and he opened his mouth to say something, but caught the look in Abby's eyes and closed his mouth abruptly," Because if they were here you would be looking for an apartment again. And don't make fun of science camp," she said with finality.

"I'll tone it down," Tony promised," I'll even get you some black roses, Abs. I promise," she beamed up at him, and pointed to the door.

"Go and run off your stress, would you," he nodded, walking towards the door.

"Love ya McGoth," Tony called from the door, closing it behind him.

"Love ya too,Tony," Abby murmured, watching Tony run off down the street, shaking her head before picking up her comic book.

******************************************************************************************************************************************

"So, what's up with the Saturday meeting?" Tony asked Chloe, and she shrugged, leaning against him sluggishly, their chairs pressed together as they looked at an intelligence report.

"Its like he knows that we all got drunk! We're adults!" she reminded him, and he snorted.

"Sure, youngin," he joked, and she whacked him on the arm when he ruffled her hair.

Gibbs was sitting at his desk, his eyes glued to the computer.

"Hey, boss," Chloe ventured, and he nodded at her, going back to his work.

It was silent between him and Tony. It had been for years. Chloe wasn't sure why, but she knew it had something to do with a Mossad officer and the old Director of NCIS. When they did talk, it was quick sentences, only related to the case. She stared at Tony for a moment, whose head was in his hands, and back over at Gibbs, who seemed to be fighting off having any emotion whatsoever.

"I thought you'd all get here on time,"Gibbs said to Tony, and he shrugged.

"I'm not McGee's keeper, boss," he responded, and Gibbs opened his mouth to say something, before looking back down at the computer again, their communication over.

"Tony, you want some coffee?" Chloe asked, and he shook his head.

"Jasmine tea with lime…the coffee lady knows how to make it," he said, and she felt Gibbs staring at them,"Thanks, Lo," he added tiredly,"Could you get me a muffin too?" she rolled her eyes, but nodded.

"If we ever have a weekend off again, I will take you to dinner," he told her, and her eyes narrowed in confusion.

"Okay," she breathed, confused,"Coffee, boss?" he nodded, and she walked towards the elevator, leaving the bullpen in silence, besides the clicking keys.

The silence ended when Abby and McGee came in.

"Sorry we're late, boss. Traffic," Tim said, and Gibbs nodded.

"Its fine," he commented.

"How're you feeling?" Abby asked Tony, and he met her eyes.

"I'm fine, Abs. I'll be fine," he assured her, and she smiled, turning towards the elevator.

"If anyone needs me I'll be in the bat cave!" she said, smiling at Gibbs as she walked by, getting in the elevator as Chloe got off.

"So what do we have, boss?" Tim asked, and Gibbs clicked the plasma clicker, a scene coming up. It was security footage.

"That's Omar Hasad's brother," Tony realized, noticing the man that came in after the Navy uniformed officer, and a young girl, holding the door open.

"Intercontinental in Paris. Petty Officer Connor Matthews, and his…friend…"he trailed off, as Tony grinned impishly,"Were taking showers. When he finished getting dressed, he heard a struggle…walked into the woman's room, and she was holding Hasad down to the ground, pointing a gun at his head. She knocked him out, and told Matthews that she had to go, and that it wasn't safe to be around her. Anyone recognize her?" he asked, and Tim shook his head.

"She could be Israeli, but its hard to tell," he zoomed in on her wrist, and Chloe sighed.

"Why would someone from Mossad go after someone else in Mossad?" Chloe wondered, and Gibbs nodded.

"That's what we're going to find out," he told her,"Matthews just arrived in the states this morning, along with the body of Hasad. The blow to the head killed him," Gibbs said, and Tony continued to stare at the video of the girl leaving the hotel room, her eyes glancing at the camera, and then down the hallway, before it went to static.

"Well whoever it was, she obviously didn't want to be seen," Abby said appearing suddenly in on the bridge, "And I ran facial recognition software…there wasn't a match. None on he fingerprints either." She told Gibbs.

"They were after her, and we need to figure out why before the CIA takes this off our hands, okay?" Chloe nodded,"Matthews is in interrogation…his father is a US Senator," he said to Tony as a warning, as Tony climbed the stairs.

************************************************************************************************************************

"I don't see why Im in trouble here," Connor said,"I didn't know that inviting incredibly hot foreign girls back to my hotel room was a federal offense," Tony sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose.

"It isn't…but the man that she killed was a known terrorist," Tony said simply, and Connor's mouth dropped open.

"She was fighting with him when I saw them through the doorway. She was like..a ninja or something," Connor described, and Tony rolled his eyes," And she was only in a towel, ouch!" Tony had slapped the back of his head.

The kid was too, normal. He was all, Midwestern America, I played football, getting by with my good looks and my fathers status. He was Tony. He was staring at himself at a younger age, but less of a smartass. And for some reason, he felt protective of the girl. Who obviously could protect herself.

"I don't care if she was in a towel. Did you hear what they were saying?" he asked, and Connor shook his head.

"It was in Hebrew, I think," he said, "But I didn't think she was Israeli. I couldn't figure out what she was, actually…"Connor mused.

"And you met her, where?" Tony asked, and he sighed.

"Train to Paris. She was reading Deep Six you know, that book by the NCIS officer…it was a conversation starter. She wouldn't tell me her name at first, and she was asking questions…where I was stationed, things like that," Connor said, and Tony furrowed his eyebrows, staring at this kid. He wasn't going to be much help.

"She didn't seem dangerous at all," he added," I don't want her to get in trouble.."

"Wont be hard, since we have no idea who she is," Tony responded, "And she told you her name?" he said, still thinking of the necklace he saw on her collarbone.

"She said her name was Sophie. The man called her something else, but I couldn't understand it," Connor said, "Can I go now? You know this is going to be all over the news…and my dad's going to kill me, "he pleaded, and Tony's eyes narrowed.

"Sophie?" he breathed, and Connor nodded.

"If you remember anything, could you just call me on my cell number?" he asked the boy, who nodded, taking his business card.

"She was really, really pretty, exotic almost. But she spoke English fluently. She was on a cellphone when I got on the train, talking in Russian,"Connor said, and Tony nodded,"I couldn't place her accent. I think some of it was Mexican? Maybe some Israeli too. But she knew her English. Well."

"Thanks, Petty Officer, you're free to go," he said, staring at the picture he had in his hands.

Gibbs opened the door as he left, and Tony looked up at him.

"She didn't hurt him…she just…eliminated whoever was following her," Tony said, "They met on the train, he offered her a place to stay, and you know the rest. He said she knows Russian and Hebrew. His statement also noted that she finished high school at the age of 14. Must have told him on the train," Tony said, staring at the photograph, perplexed.

"So how is she getting around if she's so young?" Gibbs pressed, and Tony shook his head.

"Fake passports? Drop boxes? She never left the hotel, or at least not where there was a camera. The trail went dead there," Tony said, and Gibbs shook his head.

"She's gotta know something. Its more than an coincidence that she had Mossad chasing her, They were after her for something. Information?" Tony said, and Gibbs frowned.

"Did you notice her necklace?" he asked Tony, and he closed his eyes tightly.

"I'm sure those are very common in Israel," Tony said, and got up, Gibbs making him sit back down.

"Dinozzo," he started, and Tony shook his head.

"I don't want to have this conversation with you," Tony responded honestly,"Not today. Especially not today."

"I'm retiring in six months. Vance will be retiring soon, and things are going to shift around here. You cannot let your emotions get in the way, "he said, and Tony couldn't help but roll his eyes.

"Trying to be the father I never had again? Didn't you give up that act 20 years ago?" he questioned, and Abby's eyes widened from the other side of the glass. Tony was staring him down.

"Uh oh," Abby murmured, staring at them through the glass.

*********************************************************************************************************************************

She'd lost count of the years. For the first six months, she knew, she'd been asleep. And when she finally awakened, it was to be thrown into a cell. Her hair hung in tangles down her back, and her body was frequently covered in cuts and bruises, all part of the interrogation she was subjected to weekly. She remembered the first time this had happened. Praying that it would end. That time it did. This time, it wouldn't. She knew that.

She was the only one that had survived. The last one they had taken. The outsider. They had assumed that she would spill her family secrets after what they had done to her, spill the inner workings. And despite the pain it caused her to stay silent, that was what she did. She had not spoken a word in years, no matter what they threw at her.

"Get up," the metal toed boot connected with her stomach, and she clenched her teeth, getting to her feet, being forced down the corridor.

"How is your cell treating you, my dear?" the man was well dressed. She said nothing. She knew of him as Omar Hasad. When he slapped her across the face, she barely flinched.

"When I ask you a question, I expect an answer," he said, walking back towards the other end of the room, "Perhaps if I tell you about your friends?" her eyes narrowed "We have not spoken of them in quite some time."

"I see that I have your attention now. We have not talked about your friends in a while. Mr. Gibbs and Mr. Dinozzo have not had a conversation in years," she stared down at the table when he threw pictures at her. Tony drinking from a bottle of Scotch, Gibbs alone in his basement..

She bit her lip, staring at the picture of Tony, trying to not give away who it was they could hurt to hurt her the most. Tony was a sore subject. She could only hope that he was okay. But obviously he was not. His face was haunted. Instead of staring at Hasad, she stared at the picture, taking in every detail of his face. He had a small scar she hadn't seen before. His hair was longer, still the same color, and his face was not as strong as she remembered. It was because he wasn't smiling. Not even smirking.

"So, Mr. Dinozzo is the one you care the most for," she bit her lip so hard that blood escaped to keep from saying something. She knew it infuriated him that he couldn't get her to talk.

"Your Friends Abigail and Timothy had twins, they are seven years old. Mr. Dinozzo lives with them, in the apartment above their garage," she wondered if she was hallucinating again. That this was some strange tactic her mind had come up with. Punishing her for not telling Tony, or any of them, what was really going on.

"We almost found her in Paris," he said, and her eyes stared at him in shock. He had never mentioned her. Not once until today. So he knew. This changed the game. And made everything obvious. She knew what he wanted. But she didn't have it. Her daughter, however, did.

"She killed my brother. With your gun, "he said, and she could not help the smile that spread across her lips, staring at him, daring him to do something. So she had done exactly as she was supposed to.

"Tell me where he hid them, and I will not kill her," he threatened. She stayed silent.

"Well what if she came to us, then?" he asked her, and she furrowed her eyebrows, staring at him.

"You will talk," he breathed, and she stared back down at the photo of Tony, refusing to meet Hasad's eyes.

"Do you need a picture of Dinozzo for your cell?" he asked her, kicking her in the stomach. She grunted, continuing to stare at his picture.

She stared at him defiantly when he yanked her hair upwards.

"We will continue this tomorrow," he told her, motioning for the guards to grab her and drag her back to the room, leaving him to stare at the pictures on the table.

For the first time in a while, she had smiled. She didn't know what year it was. She didn't know what day it was . She had no idea what was going on out there. But something had changed. Because now, she had hope. A tear slid down her cheek, the liquid mixing with the blood and dirt there, and she didn't even care that she couldn't wipe it away. Because they were alive.

_So, what did you think? I worked hard to get it out today. Sorry if there is a spelling or grammatical error. Ha. Its super long, so you should enjoy that, at the very least. _

_-Jena_


	2. Authors Note and Spoilersreview replies

Wow. Seven reviews! And 21 for Paperwork. If you've read this, and you haven't read Paperwork, I suggest you do. It's a premise for Catch Me if You Can. Apparently I should not have stopped writing! I'm truly amazed, and giggling because some of you are begging me to write more. I will tell you right now that over 80 pages of this story is written, not counting Paperwork, which is also about 20 pages. The editing and revising is what is going to take some time. I will really try to get it up as soon as I possibly can. I got this idea in my head, and I couldn't get it out, because I had been doing a marathon of all the seasons. I put off homework all weekend to work on it. So now I have to do homework, I have midterms this week. Ugh. The things you are going to find out in this story are proving for me to be very hard to put down on paper, but I do, for the most part, know how this is going to end.

But I digress. While I'm working on it, I thought I'd throw in some really ambiguous spoilers for you guys! I'm wondering how you liked Sophie? I had a lot of fun creating her character. I'm still trying to figure out some things about her. Chloe was fun to write too, as was Connor. He's not done with the story in the slightest. You will see him again. And this will not be Tiva for quite sometime, as I said before. So just…read these spoilers, let me know what you're speculating…sometimes you are right, and sometimes your ideas are better than mine were…and just know that these are subject to change, mmmkay? Some of the spoilers will be a piece of a scene, a piece of diolauge, or description. Hope you enjoy, and as always, I don't own NCIS.

-Jena

"Parents wouldn't abandon their daughter like that, unless they were dead,"

" Frank from linguistics came down, and you know how I feel about Frank, so you totally owe me a Caff Pow, but…"he gave her a look,"

"Do you want me to tell you what I think?" Abby said quietly, and he shook his head. She scowled at him.

"Do I look old enough to be Mossad?" she countered quietly, and he shook his head.

"No, you're too young,"

"And that is my greatest asset, is it not?" she responded, raising an eyebrow at him and smirking, setting her bag down and pushing it under a bunk.

"She's weighing her options, see the way she is looking at him? Every word is almost…rehearsed."

"Hatred can be a very powerful thing," she had whispered,"And you are smart. You know that is not the way, yes?" she had nodded quickly, wincing at the pain in her neck.

"Its shiny," she observed, and he smiled.

"Keep it with you. If you are ever in trouble, give it to the police. They will come and help you," he told her, and she nodded.

"Like Deep Six?" she asked him softly, and he smiled.

"Exactly like Deep Six, Sophie," he breathed, and took something out of his pocket

That girl next to Tony, the day she was at NCIS. The day she accused him of murder. But it couldn't be the same person. She was too young

Was this what Tony was like when he was on a case? Pushy, annoying? She grabbed the chart, reading over it, and glancing at the backpack. She couldn't look at it, but she had the badge.

"I would say so. Her name is Jeanne Lewis," her picture flashed up on the screen, and Tony's eyes narrowed.

"Jeanne Benoit," he breathed, looking over at Director Vance.

She didn't flinch, staring him right back in the eyes.

"Looks like Gibbs found his match," Abby commented wryly.

"That does not matter. She has been dead for quite sometime," she responded softly, and he snorted.

"He does not seem to like me very much," Tony's fist clenched around the bottle tightly, and Gibbs pried his fingers from it.

"Hatred can be powerful…but sometimes you can hate the memory instead of who that person really was," he explained, running a hand through his hair,"You remind me so much of her."

"She always got that sort of thing wrong, you know. She would have told me there was no use in weeping over dirty puddles," he said, and she sniffled.

"Get cleaned up," he motioned to the shower, and she stared at him incredulously. He punched her in the stomach, and she nodded, turning on the water slowly, afraid she didn't even remember how.

"This is silly," she muttered, spinning around in the dress, staring at herself in the mirror, "I do not think I have worn a dress since I was five years old," she commented,"They are hard to get around in. Pants are better," he rolled his eyes.

"Well I wasn't sure if she was killing people and taking souvenirs or something! We don't know her! I know she's living in the same house as my husband and my kids, but that didn't mean I couldn't do background on her," she said defensively.

"Well I don't know about now. But she was six months ago," Abby said softly, staring at the picture of her and Ziva on her desk,"And she had really dirty hair. And teeth." She added under her breath.

"Abby? You didn't come home last night," Tim said, poking his head in the door. She stared catatonically at the computer screen, and snapped out of it, slamming her fingers down on the computer screen to minimize it.

"Uh huh," she said weakly, staring at the computer screen.

"I had to take the kids to school….you didn't make them breakfast,"

"Uh huh…"she mumbled, tears springing to her eyes.

"Abs…"he put a hand on her shoulder, and she shook it off.

"I need to see Gibbs," she clicked the screen to black and got up, walking past Ducky before turning back.

"Will you bag and tag it for me, Ducky?" she asked weakly, and he nodded.

"What did I do?" Tim asked him, and he shook his head.

"I'm quite sure that it wasn't you," he said softly, and Tim scratched the back of his neck.

"McGee, my office,"

"Uh oh, Probies in trouble," Tony taunted, and McGee shot him a look, following him into the elevator, where Abby was waiting.

"Like I said…Senior agent, last to know," Tommy said, leaning back in his chair.

"And you're not annoyed?" she questioned, and he shrugged.

"What are you talking about?" he asked, and her face went pale.

"I wasn't supposed to tell you. I couldn't do that…you loved her," his eyes widened.

"Abby, what are you trying to say?" he said cautiously.

"Gibbs?" she asked, disbelieving for a moment,"Don't you think you are a little bit old for this?" she asked softly, and he fought back a laugh.

She mumbled something incompreshensible, and he couldn't help but smile at her.

"Head slaps, huh?" he asked her as the door was closing.

"Chloe, meet us at Bethsdea," he said, getting into the ambulance with her, not even looking back at her.

"I buried her, McGee. I put her away in that box, the Jeanne, Jenny, Paula box,"

"I have been waiting to kill him…for a very long time," her voice was soft, and she stared at the mirror in the corner of his room," I may have gone overboard," she added softly.

"You're less heavy then you used to be," he said softly, and he curled tighter against her as they got into the car,"Can't really help the smelliness. I kind of forgot about bodily hygiene in the name of revenge," he blurted out, annoyed with himself.

"Revenge?" she questioned hollowly, and he didn't respond.

"And what exactly were you avenging, Tony?" she asked, and he bit his lip.

"It is very strange when you find out everyone has thought you are dead," she whispered, "I know you know that," she breathed, and he sighed.

"Well, you were the first person to give up, so…"she shot him an annoyed look.

"That was a very hard thirty minutes, Tony. I can only imagine what four months was like for you," she whispered.

"Well you are balding. So it must have been quite some time," she said, a small smile tugging at the corners of her lips, although her eyes looked worried.

"I have no idea why that bothers you, because you get twice as many presents," Tony joked, his mind still reeling.

"Were you in love with her?" Gibbs asked, and Tony stared him straight in the eye.

"I guess I never got to find out, did I?" he said, his eyes cold, and got up, walking out the door and slamming it behind him, trying to get his breathing under control.

_So, what did you think? Feel free to speculate. It'll probably be at least a couple days before I get an update up. _

_-Jena_


	3. Part Two

Catch Me if you Can

Part Two

Jena Rink

I don't own NCIS. Duh. lol. I thought this would take longer, but here it is. Haha. Thanks for all the reviews! More would make me extremely happy. Sorry if there are any spelling errors. I tried to fix them all.

The sun was non-existent. Her skin must be white as a ghost. But that was what she was, in theory. There wasn't any way they were still looking for her. But maybe that was for the best? She couldn't decide. She had countless hours, days…months…from what Hasam had said, over 7 years, to analyze. To think about every misstep she took. But this time, she knew something. He had slipped. She was alive. At least 13 years old. And she could fight. She tried to imagine her. Probably tall, probably a stubborn smart ass, and very smart. She had to have been smart to have made it this far.

It almost made her crazy, sitting in the darkness for so many hours at a time. The malnourishment almost helped, she passed out frequently. He wouldn't keep her comfortable. That just wasn't possible. And the room had been stripped. She was the only thing in it. She must look like hell. She hadn't seen her own face in years. It was funny that her father would disown her, and then she'd end up back in his house. In this damn safe house, which her fingerprint was the only escape. She cursed the invention of biometrics, because there was no way anyone could find her.

Her stomach hurt. She needed water, maybe a bandage. She wouldn't get one. It was no use thinking about what she needed, or wanted. But if she wasn't thinking about anything, she might go crazy. Her vision blurred for a moment, and she blinked rapidly, trying to clear it. It just made her more dizzy.

"God, you need a haircut," the voice surprised her, and she glanced up, staring at Abby, leaning against the wall, platform shoes, short skirt, and tee shirt, pigtails, and dark eyeliner. Nothing had changed. But then again, this wasn't reality. Ziva didn't respond. This was stupid. She was just very hungry, and tired, and her stomach was aching. And hallucinating, if anything, made her mental instability worse.

"You know, you can talk to me. I'm only here because you need somebody," she told her, surveying the room,"Is this a dungeon?" she asked, her interest peaked,"its so dark! Stone walls and everything!" she observed, her boots clunking around as she walked across the floor," I could totally put my coffin in here, if I still had it," she told Ziva matter of factly.

"You're not real," she whispered softly, aware that the camera was on her, the only light in the room. He would certainly be enjoying this. Abby's voice snapped her out of her reverie.

"You don't say," Abby responded sarcastically, crossing her arms,"This is nuts…where are we?" she asked Ziva, and Ziva swallowed.

What was the use in trying to be sane when she'd probably not see the light of day ever again? Hallucinations were a small comfort when they were pleasant ones. Because not all of them had been pleasant. Abby's prescence, as foreign as it was, was welcome.

"I am in Tel Aviv in a safe house underneath my father's greenhouse, and you, are not real," she told her, and Abby shrugged.

"You don't want company?" she questioned, pouting, and Ziva struggled to sit up, staring at her. She looked exactly the same as the last time she had seen her.

"Well I would prefer the real kind," she mused, and Abby laughed, taking a sip of her caff pow, as Ziva curled up on the floor, staring at her.

"I'm as real as it gets," she told her," Would you rather have Gibbs? Because I for one think he would be way less talkative then me!" she said, and Ziva closed her eyes tightly, shivering.

"You are all alive…I was so worried," she breathed, and Abby frowned.

"As opposed to you," she commented, and Ziva stared at her strangely. What exactly was hallucination Abby trying to say to her. She didn't get it. She was always the one that talked in riddles the most,"We're getting by the best we can."

"I miss you," Ziva said, and Abby's eyes brightened.

"I miss you too," she said, giving her a knowing look, and Ziva closed her eyes tightly again.

"I wish I could help more," Abby said, and Ziva stared at her for a moment. She was always such a good distraction.

"Will you tell me a story, Abby?" Ziva asked, laying back down, and she grinned.

"Bout what?" she questioned, and Ziva shrugged, her eyes partially open.

"Anything, just not this," she breathed, and Abby nodded, laying down next to her and staring at the ceiling.

"Once upon a time, there was this kickass Israeli assassin, and-" her eyes were closed before Abby had even began the story. She had passed out again, falling into a prison of memories she couldn't escape.

#################################################################################################################

The sun was rising over Paris. She stared at the colors, glad she had gotten a chance to go to the Eiffel tower before she left. It was early like this, when she knew they had lost her tail, at least for a few hours, that she could relax. Be herself, whoever that was.

It was already warm, and she sipped at the limonade she had purchased, taking out her camera and snapping a picture of the sunrise.

She sat down on a bench, her backpack right next to her, and took out the book, flipping to the 20th chapter and staring at the title.

_Back to Washington_

That was appropriate. Except she had never been to Washington DC. And it was the location of her next drop box, maybe. She couldn't skip ahead. It would screw things up. Everything was for a reason. The book would help. It had to. She sighed, pulling out the piece of paper with a map to Monet's gardens, and a photograph of her mother smiling with a man she didn't recognize, sitting on a bench, grinning widely. His arms were protectively around her waist, and her head was on his shoulder. She looked happy. So did he. His hands were clasping her waist delicately, and her eyes were staring up at him mischievously.

She was distracted. Tired. A lot had happened yesterday, from Connor, and Hasad's brother, to Dr. Mallard. She'd gotten the note to someone. Which was kind of ironic, considering she'd just given him a message that could probably been delivered in Washingon. She grabbed the pager in the box, and made the necessary page. Who used pagers anymore? She wasn't sure. But it didn't matter. Things were being set in motion now.

She was going to have to get new clothes soon. She wouldn't stop growing. She'd been tiny as a little girl, her mother always telling her she'd sprout up eventually. Well eventually had come, and she was almost six feet tall.

She made a mental checklist in her head, and got up, walking towards the Metro. She was going sightseeing again, in a manner of speaking.

Two hours later, she was paying her fare, glad it was a slow day. It would be hard to search for what she was looking for if someone was watching her.

It was beautiful. She glanced down at the picture, and walked down a walkway filled with flowers, everywhere. It was magical. She'd never seen anything like it. Her eyes stared up in childlike wonder despite her age, and she couldn't resist snapping a picture. Her mother had been here. It made the place special, sacred. Far more then for its beauty. She walked over a bridge, and spotted the bench, holding up the photo to make sure it was accurate.

It was getting harder and harder for her to pretend like this didn't effect her. Maybe she could be happy someday, like her mother in the picture, loving someone as she had loved. But sorting through her mother's memories, one country at a time, was staring to wear on her composure.

She walked back towards the hedge, and noticed the edge of a small red box sticking out of the side. She glanced around before pulling it up, staring at it. It was rusted, but still sealed. She tucked it into her backpack, deciding to walk a bit more before she left and opened it.

"Its beautiful, isn't it?" she turned around quickly, and stared into the face of a kindly looking man that couldn't have been older than 50, flecks of gray in his hair,"My wife and I got engaged here." His warm blue eyes were smiling, although his face was not. What was he doing here? This was too dangerous.

"You paged me," he mouthed, and she nodded silently, following him towards the exit, glancing back behind her one last time as they walked towards his car. He handed her a key, opening the door. She got inside without question, putting the key into the box, and turning it.

"You've grown," he commented, and she smiled at him weakly, forgetting about the box. This was familiar. She allowed herself to relax, and stared over at him, analyzing the changes in his face.

"I didn't realize he had set this up so you were going to get me to-"he cut her off as they pulled onto the road.

"You weren't supposed to know," he reminded her, and she nodded, glancing back down at the box. She was hesitant to open it. She had a feeling of foreboding. And her mother had always told her to trust her gut,"Im sorry about Mike, Sophie."

"It was three years ago," she reminded him softly, staring out the window as they drove off and clouds rolled in from the East. It was going to rain.

"I know, but we weren't there," he pointed out, and she shook her head.

"There was nothing you could have done," she breathed quietly, taking out the book again and reading it for comfort alone, the rest of the trip spent in silence as she lived in the fictional world of her mother, if even for a few minutes forgetting about what was going on.

When they pulled up at the large house, she stared at him in confusion.

"CIA Safehouse," he informed her quietly.

"Its not being used?" she asked, and he shook his head.

"You forget that we're in hiding too, Sophie," he said, meeting her eyes. And she nodded, looking forwards to eating something. They could catch up and plan the transport later.

"Sophie!" the voice startled her, and she glanced up, managing to smile.

"Sydney," she said, surprised when Sydney pulled her into a large hug squeezing her tightly.

"Are you hungry?" she asked Sophie, and she nodded distractedly as the man grabbed her things, taking them inside.

"I'm so glad you're alright," she breathed, and smoothed her hair down. Sophie made a strange face, and pulled back to stare at her. She looked worried.

"I'm sorry I haven't been able to contact you. It was too dangerous with Hasad's…"Sydney nodded, leading her into the kitchen.

"Elise made stew," she said, and Sophie sat down at the table,taking the bowl that was handed to her.

"Thank you," she said quietly, her mind still on the man in the photograph. Who was he? She couldn't place him, but he was so familiar.

"You okay?" Sydney asked, and Sophie met her eyes.

"You're right, that's a stupid question," she responded, going to get her a glass of water.

"I am tired. None of my clothes fit," Sophie said, and Sydney's eyes sparkled.

"You are not taking me shopping, Aunt Sydney. It's too dangerous," she said, and Sydney frowned.

"Well you can go shopping my closet then. I think we're about the same size."she said, as the man walked into the room,"And we're not leaving until tomorrow morning. So you can get some rest," Sophie nodded.

She felt safe here. She had always felt safe here. It was the place she spent her Christmases at when she was young, and she knew it was heavily guarded. Right now, her mind was on what was in the box.

"Sophie, I put your things in the guest room," Peter said, and she smiled.

"Thanks, Peter. It is really good to see you,"she said, and he sat next to Sydney.

"We heard about what happened in Paris," Sydney ventured, and Sophie rubbed a hand over her eyes.

"I am an idiot. He was cute," she said quietly, and Sydney's eyes widened.

"Did you two-" Sophie shook her head quickly, mortified.

"You do not have to give me the sex talk," she said, and Sydney laughed, sharing a look with him,"Its not like I even have time to think about things like that right now," she added.

"I know I don't," she told her, and Sophie visibly relaxed as Peter held back a laugh.

"So, tomorrow?" she questioned, and Peter nodded.

"I got one of my friends to get us passage on a cruise," he said, and she frowned," I have all our identities. You're going to be our adoptive daughter." Sophie glanced at him, raising an eyebrow.

"I would have been fine on a fishing boat or a cargo ship," she remarked, and Sydney fought back a smile.

"I know, you were always the rough and tumble one," Peter responded, "Always playing the mud and getting in fights with boys," he said, and Sophie smiled, recalling the few weeks a year she had to be a child, even though it was fleeting.

Two hours and a shower later, Sophie sat on the bed, staring at the box.

The regret of killing someone, no matter who it was, was bubbling in her stomach. Had she sent him a message? She wasn't sure. Hasad hadn't relented in killing everyone she held close. Her family, her mother, Michael…she sniffled, realizing she was crying, and wiped her tears away angrily.

She'd been staring at the box for the last ten minutes, her apprehension getting the best of her. She'd already been through Sydney's closet, grabbing things that were practical for where they were going. She couldn't admit to herself why she was so emotional. Tears welled in her eyes again, and she cursed softly in French.

"Sophie?" she turned to stare at Sydney, annoyed with herself for getting caught with her emotions on her sleeve. Because Sydney would ask. It wasn't normal for a teenager to not show emotion. But usually the emotion was for much less significant reasons.

"This isn't fair," Sophie admitted, and Sydney came to sit next to her on the bed.

"We'll stop them," she assured her quietly, and Sophie shook her head, voicing what was bothering her the most.

"I don't know if I want to get to Washington," she said quietly, wiping her nose on her sleeve, "What if the reason she kept me away was to keep me from something that was more dangerous."

"That's the safest place you could be," Sydney said, and Sophie closed her eyes tightly, a single tear escaping.

"I keep asking myself what she would have done," Sophie said, fingering the necklace, and Sydney frowned,"Because surely it would have been perfect. I have been stupid, idolizing her like this," she pulled out the picture as Sydney gave her a sympathetic look.

"Your mom was an amazing woman, Sophie," she said, reaching up a hand to rub her back, and Sophie bit her lip, staring at the photograph.

"Who is that man?" she asked her,"Have you ever seen him before?" Sydney shook her head.

"Maybe he worked with her?" she asked, and Sophie shrugged, her composure slipping. She hadn't broken down like this in months. But being somewhere where she could let her guard down had opened the floodgates.

"I'm mad at her," Sophie whispered, staring out the window at the rain," I don't know if that's the general reaction when your mother is killed and you're forced to go on the run, but she should have told me more! This is not fair. I don't know anything about this…"she said, motioning to the picture,"It is all blurry….old movie tickets, black and white photographs, a blue dress, this necklace, her badge…but no straight answers. Never a straight answer.."she seethed, and Sydney put an arm around her shoulders.

"Are you sure he's someone important?" Sydney asked, already knowing her answer.

"Why would she lead me there? Why would she give me this picture? You know what drives me insane about this? That she knew. Somehow, she knew that I'd end up running," Sophie mumbled, frustrated, her head starting to hurt from the tears.

"I think that had something to do with your grandfather, and not your mother," Sydney said, and Sophie tried desperately not to cry.

"Do you think he is alive, my father?" she asked finally, and Sydney shrugged. Sophie's eyes were still fixated on the photograph.

"Maybe she was trying to save him too," Sydney whispered, and Sophie scoffed.

"He is a man, Sydney. Not a teenage girl. Men don't need rescuing," she reasoned, and Sydney let out a small laugh.

"Sometimes they do, Soph," she responded, and Sophie leant against her.

"I am glad you are helping," she said, looking up at her.

"Couldn't resist," she said, smiling down at her before kissing the top of her head.

"I cannot get emotional like this," Sophie said,"It is a hindrance."

"If you don't, you'll burst, Sophie," Sydney said," You've been doing college prep. You're using your words. When did you have time to do that?" she asked, and Sophie shrugged.

"Bookstore, I read them on the commutes. It makes me believe I am normal, for once," she said, and Sydney nodded.

"Did you ever watch movies, when you were little? Your mom didn't like them, but-"

"I read…a lot," Sophie responded softly, and Sydney grinned.

"When this is over, we're going to go to a movie. Lots of them,"she told her, and Sophie sighed.

"Do you really believe we are getting close?" Sophie breathed, and Sydney shrugged, her eyes straying to the red box on the bed.

"Did you open the box?" she nodded, motioning to the contents that were strewn across the bed.

A pair of emerald earrings, a pair of movie tickets from a black and white move marathon at a random theater in Washington, a napkin from a bar, and the next book in the Deep Six series. A storage unit key with an address written on the back, car keys, and a picture frame of her mother and Sydney, as well as two people she didn't recognize, leaning against each other.

"Who are they?" she asked her quietly, and Sydney studied the photograph.

"This was from an undercover assignment…The woman with the red hair is Jenny Sheppard…she was the director of NCIS for a while, we did an undercover mission in Morroco..and the other girl's name was Samantha. She was killed," Sydney said, and Sophie glanced up at her.

"Jenny is very pretty, and so were you…"Sophie said, and Sydney frowned.

"I'm the only one that's still alive, "Sydney remarked, running her fingers over the glass, and Sophie leant against her.

"Its not always like this, is it? Staring at old pictures and wishing for things you no longer have?" Sophie asked, and Sydney shook her head.

"Get some sleep. The ship leaves on Friday, and we're leaving at noon tomorrow. We'll work on our identities at 9am. I'll make pancakes," Sydney said, helping her take the box off the bed.

"Good night, Soph,"Sydney breathed, clicking off the light.

She wondered what their purpose was on the ship. As much as she wanted to believe that they were just going to be able to get to Washington right away, she knew it wasn't the case.

There was a reason they were going on that boat. There always was a reason. And she was going to find out what it was. She didn't want to be caught unawares. Her eyes slid shut slowly, and her mind went to the one memory she wanted to see the least.

"_You have to listen to me. It will be alright. You will be fine," she had whispered to her quietly,"I will get you out of here. I will. I promise you," she gripped her five year olds shoulders softly,"The book will tell you what to do," she whispered in her ear, and she frowned. _

"_Mother, why are they doing this to us?" Sophie had whispered, listening to the gunfire. _

"_Hatred can be a very powerful thing," she had responded, her voice firm,"And you are smart. You know that is not the way, yes?" she had nodded quickly. _

"_There is a man, Gordon. He owes me a favor. I'm going to give you an address. They are coming for us, and I do not want you to be a part of what your grandfather has sentenced us to. There is a bag in the closet. It will have everything you need. You remember how to use the knife I gave you?" Sophie nodded quickly, her eyes filling with tears,"You are going to go to the address. Gordon will help you flee the country. He will take you somewhere safe, at least for the time being." Sophie swallowed, trying to keep from crying._

"_Will I ever see you again?" she had asked softly, tears flowing down her cheeks. _

"_I do not know," her mother had whispered softly, and then all hell had broken loose. Gunfire erupted, and her mother slid her underneath the bed, the bag following. _

"_Stay. Here." She had ordered, and "Stay silent"_

_The yelling in Hebrew still gave her nightmares. As well as the vision of her mother, falling to the ground, her eyes on Sophie as they dragged her away. _

_The apartment burst into flames seconds later, and she barely had a minute to escape down the back wall of vines, running off down the street, her knife clutched tightly in her fist, ready to use it if she needed it. She was still in her nightgown. _

_She was six years old when she killed her first man. That thought haunted her. He had tried to grab her, and she pretended to be helpless until he had gotten close enough, his breath rancid in her face. And then she stabbed him in the throat will all the strength she could muster, pulling it back out, and running away from the scene as fast as her legs could carry her. _

_When she reached the address, the sun was rising. Her hands were shaking, and she was covered in the stranger's blood. When the maid opened the door, her eyes narrowed. _

"_We do not feed beggars," she began in Hebrew, and Sophie flashed her tattoo. _

"_I need to see Gordon," she said, her voice hoarse from all of the running. _

"_Come inside," she had said, leading her into the entry hallway. _

_The man had kind eyes. He had taken one look at her and started talking to the maid in Hebrew quickly. Four hours later, they were on their way to Mexico. _

"_You are very strong," he said softly, and she shook her head, staring out at the ocean, tears streaming down her cheeks. She was still covered in blood, and had been fighting the urge to throw up for hours. _

"_I should not have left her there. She…she is most likely gone. My grandfather, everyone. Everything I have come to know is lost," she breathed and he placed a hand on her shoulder. _

"_You must be strong," he told her, leaning down to look her in the eyes,"Your mother was one of the strongest people I know," he said, and she glanced down at her backpack, swallowing thickly. _

"_Where am I going?" she asked softly, her voice shaking. _

"_It is better if you do not know that, not until later," he said, and she started crying again. _

"_Please don't cry," he said quietly, "Your mother never cried," he added, and she stopped abruptly, staring at him, her upper lip trembling. _

"_What's going to happen to me?"she whispered, and he pushed a lock of hair off of her face. _

"_You'll be fine," he told her,"Your mother and I were partners in Mossad. Would you like me to tell you about that?" she nodded, grabbing his hand and letting him lead her into the interior of the boat. _

"_This is her badge, Sophie," he said, and she nodded, staring at it. _

"_It isn't Mossad?" she asked, and he shook his head. _

"_She was in America for a number of years, working in Washington. You remember her stories?" Sophie nodded._

"_She took this with her when she left,"he pressed it into her hand, and she ran her finger across it. _

"_Its shiny," she observed, and he smiled. _

"_Keep it with you. If you are ever in trouble, give it to the police. They will come and help you," he told her, and she nodded. _

"_Like Deep Six?" she asked him softly, and he smiled. _

"_Exactly like Deep Six, Sophie," he breathed, and took something out of his pocket. _

"_What's that?" she asked, finally calming down, and he smiled. _

"_This is your mothers as well," he said, placing the chain around her neck. _

"_Its pretty," she whispered, and he nodded. _

"_It's very special to her. Like the badge. You must take good care of it," he told her, and she nodded. _

"_Who is going to take care of me?" she asked, and he smiled. _

"_An old friend of your mother's. He'll take care of you. Teach you everything you need to know." _

"_Okay," she whispered, sighing. _

"_Will I see you again?" she said a second later, and he sighed. _

"_I do not know," he said, "I will be running as well."_

"_Because of me?" she asked quietly, and he shook his head. _

"_Don't worry," he told her," You will be safe. It is what your mother wanted," she nodded._

_####################################################################################################################_

There was complete silence in the interrogation room. On the other side, it was anything but.

"Maybe they'll hash it out?" Chloe said, and McGee shook his head. Sometimes, Chloe drove him crazy. She didn't know anything about what had gone on before she arrived. Being a transfer, she was brought in quickly. He spoke before he could think too much about it. Today wasn't a day where it was easy for any of them to keep their composure.

"I don't want to make you seem like you don't know what you're talking about,"he started, "But you have no idea what you're talking about," he added bitingly, and Abby turned to stare at him.

She stared at him, annoyed. It wasn't her fault that she was uninformed. She had tried asking Tony. He hadn't said a thing.

"Is that my fault, exactly?" she said, crossing her arms, and Abby sighed.

She didn't need everyone fighting. Otherwise she'd be hiding in the basement with Palmer for days, considering he was the only one besides Vance that wasn't in the room.

"Guys-" she started, and they ignored her.

"You could have read the files. Asked someone that wasn't connected to the situation, instead of trying to figure it out from us," McGee responded, "Did it ever cross your mind that reliving the some of the most difficult years of our lives wouldn't be fun for us?"

"Tony's the only one that can tell you," Abby said,"He was Jenny's protection detail…"she said, and Tim shot her a look.

"There wasn't another agent assigned to Jenny's case?" she questioned, and McGee walked out the door. Abby stared after him.

"Ziva died today, Chloe. We're all on edge. Ziva was the other agent on Jenny Sheppard's case," Abby said quietly, and Chloe's eyes softened.

"I didn't know," she mumbled, and Abby shook her head.

"Read their files," Abby said, and Chloe nodded.

"Sorry, Abby," she said finally.

"Its okay,"she mumbled, glancing up at Tony and Gibbs, who had started shouting again.

"Would you be professional about this?" Gibbs asked,"I'm trying to do you a favor! You're in line for my job, at least! You've done a great job, they see that. Vance is just worried about how you let things effect you."

"Instead of the way you run things?" Tony shot back," No emotion, whatsoever?" Gibbs punched him in the face, and Tony took a step back when Gibbs tried to get closer to him.

"Snap, out of it. She wouldn't want you to be like this," Gibbs said, and Tony shook his head.

"Wouldn't she? She didn't care, remember, she left-" his closed his eyes tightly, and Gibbs saw it. The same thing he had felt for Jenny, Tony had felt for Ziva.

"Were you in love with her?" Gibbs asked, and Tony stared him straight in the eye.

"I guess I never got to find out, did I?" he said, his eyes cold,walking out the door and slamming it behind him, trying to get his breathing under control.

"He loved her," Chloe realized softly, and Abby sighed.

"I don't know. They were really close. Closer than close. We thought she was dead for a while…she'd been captured, and Tim and Tony went to Africa to kill the man that had done it. She was there. They rescued her," Abby said, her voice flat,"See you later." She added, walking out the door, in search of Tony.

"Tony!" Abby came around the corner, and he shot her a look, turning and walking down the hallway towards the stairs.

"Tony, wait," she said, exasperated, as Gibbs walked out of the door, bumping into her. She turned around, pointing her finger at his chest.

"That was really great. I'd finally gotten him to admit what was going on, and now you had to go and get him all emotional again," she said, glaring at him,"This tough love thing has got to stop!" she said, trying to be authoritative, and Gibbs glanced down, clenching his teeth, before looking up at her again.

"He needs to grow up, Abby," he said, and she put her hands on her hips.

"He needs to do it on his own. You can't force him, no matter how long its been" she said, as Vance walked out of MTAC.

"The girl has a hit out on her. Hasam ordered it," Vance said, and Abby sighed.

"What could a girl that young have done to get herself on Mossad's most wanted list?" she wondered, twirling on the edge of her pigtail. It just didn't make sense. And where the hell were her parents?

**So? I couldn't find an appropriate place to end this part...haha. But let me know what you thought! :) **


	4. Review Replies, spoilers 20

Hi again! Thought I'd give you some teasers....just to keep your interest, and do some review replies.

Should be up by Thursday.

-jena

Marcius- Thanks for the review! Im glad you think its amazing.

Tinuviel Undomiel- Dang, your penname is a mouthful. Thanks for the advice on the hallucinations. I'd already started writing another one, and it was much much easier to bring to the page because of your help.

Nerwen Aldarion- Part three is coming. I have 9 pages so far. It's a mix up between Tony and Chloe talking, Some Gibbs musings, Palmer and Abby discovering something, and Tony getting a promotion, and another hallucination scene, so far. I have a bit more to go with it, but thanks for the help with the hallucination stuff. I spent a fair bit of time researching Israeli torture methods yesterday to make it more realistic. It was not very much fun, but I suppose it'll add to the real-ness of the story.

Gsr4ever- Thanks for the review. Glad you are liking it!

Eternalconfusion- Im glad you like it! Update should be up by Thursday.

ChEmMie- hahahaha Sorry! It was longer than most chapters? Some exciting stuff will be happening in the next one, I promise.

Laughter's Song- Thanks. Im glad you like her backstory. Its hard to write OC's that are believable sometimes. I hope I did a good job. I really enjoy Sophie. She always tries to be strong and stoic and is very saracastic, but she has a soft side, much like Tony did. Tony and Gibbs are going to have to hug it out at some point, but its going to take me a while to find a way in which that will not be cheesy. Lol. Glad you caught that. I got the idea because they reuse things all the time on the show, they throw in past references and stuff.

Logan's Rogue- Brilliant? Oh yay, Im smiling as I write this review reply, You just made my day!

Maddie- Thanks! I appreciate it!

Okay, so I was wondering if you wanted some more spoilers? I will try and make them a little bit easier to understand. Hahahaha. I'll try and alternate font types so you get which parts are connected to which spoilers.

_"Oh, Zee-vah. That's not what I was talking about…"he trailed off, glaring at her. His eyes strayed toward her stomach, and suddenly she understood. It wasn't about her leaving. This was about Sophie. The fear that he would never find her, the fear that he would never forgive her._

"Go to hell," he responded, her head pounding as his image started to fade.

"I'm already there," she mumbled to no one in particular, letting her eyes slide shut again.

**A whole new set of issues that brought up the fact that she had left him, not just because she didn't want him anymore.**

**_"How about we just have a glass of bourbon in your office? I've had one hell of a morning," he started the elevator again, and they came out on the top floor, walking into the office, and shutting the door tightly._**

**_Gibbs stared at them from his desk, his eyebrows furrowed._**

_"Hey Gibbs!" she said, slamming her fingers down on the keyboard to zoom out on the photo, he stared at her strangely, grabbing her Caff Pow and sticking it in the freezer._

Mossad had collapsed, and she had turned up dead, along with the rest of her family. So who was this girl? Ziva hadn't dated while she was back. It had seemed like her and Tony were getting somewhere, getting back to they were as friends and partners. But maybe they had been more?

**"I don't know, but you can close the floodgates on this, because no one is going to know about it until I can figure out more, okay Palmer?" she asked him seriously, and he nodded.**

**"Swear on Burt," she said, holding up the stuffed animal, and Palmer rolled his eyes, putting his hand on top of the stuffed animal.**

**"I swear on Burt," he told her, and left the room. Abby just stared at the computer screen again, her eyes fixated on the book. Who was this chick?**

"You think I hate you,"she found herself asking numbly, staring at him.

"Isn't that what you think, Zee-vah?" he said simply, shoving his hands in his pockets,"Isn't that why you never tried to escape? Because of what you thought I'd say to you?"

"This isn't real!"she ground out,"You're not here, and the second I stop thinking about you, then you'll be gone," she breathed, and he shook his head.

"Then you know that I'm here all the time, right?" Tony questioned, scratching the back of his neck as he stared at her. 

I'll update soon, promise. Hope you like the spoilers. Hope they were a little bit easier to understand.

-jena


	5. Part Three 12 sorry for the length!:

Catch me if you can

Jena Rink

Part Three (1/2)

Disclaim- Don't own NCIS. Plot, Chloe, Sophie, Peter, and Sydney are my own characters, however.

Please read, review, and enjoy, and don't miss the note at the bottom!

Sorry for it being so short.

-Jena

He didn't mean to get punched in the face. Nor did he mean to punch the wall in the parking garage. He'd just…lost control. It was interesting, because for the ten days or so when everything had always went wrong, he was a complete basket case. He shouldn't have come in to work today. It was a bad idea. He was way worse at hiding it then everyone else. Everything reminded him of them.

Tony wondered when he'd turned into Gibbs Jr.. Not that it was a bad thing work wise, he knew he was getting great evaluations, and would most likely get the director job when Vance retired. Life wise, it was a different story. He certainly had the points on the bitterness scale required to be the Director of NCIS. And he didn't have any ties, besides McGee and Abby, and Chloe.

She had probably seen the whole thing, standing there with Abby and McGee and watching their heated exchange. He rubbed a hand over his eyes tiredly. Jenny would tell him to get himself under control, just like Gibbs had. Tony knew he was trying to help, but every time they spoke, all he thought about was Ziva. He needed to tell Chloe what had happened. He could see the hurt in her eyes every time they mentioned Ziva or Jen, even not directly. She probably felt left out. He needed to move on, so none of this was an issue in the first place.

"Tony?" he glanced up from his spot against the wall, and saw Chloe approaching him tentatively. He patted the spot on the ground next to him, and she sat down, leaning her head against the cool concrete.

"Hi," he said simply, running a hand through his hair.

"Abby's looking for you," she mentioned, and he shook his head.

"I'll talk to Abby later," he said, and glanced over at her," Anything on the girl?"

He was desperate for some sort of information to prove him wrong. Because saying that Ziva had a daughter was too much to take in. It opened up a whole slew of problems Tony didn't want to face. A whole new set of issues that brought up the fact that she had left him, not just because she didn't want him anymore. Maybe she had a reason? He shook his head. That wasn't like her at all. But maybe he hadn't really known Ziva after all.

"She's got a hit out on her. 10 million dollars. 20 million if she's alive," Chloe said, and Tony narrowed his eyes.

"It makes me sick how a government organization can just doom a girl's life like that," Tony said, and Chloe nodded, looking at him curiously. He was thinking too much again.

"Palmer thinks she's about 16," Chloe said, and his eyes narrowed. Seventeen years ago, even eighteen, she had just left him. It certainly gave him a lot to think about. But the entire family had been assassinated. Even if Ziva had had a daughter, their daughter, she would have been killed in the takeover of Mossad.

"Matthews said she was too cautious. Like she was running from something…"Chloe added quietly, and Tony looked up at her.

"What would she be running from, besides Hasad? Why would she have to run from Mossad if she was Israeli and they'd eliminated every trace of the David's power?" Tony said, his voice catching slightly on Ziva's last name.

"Parents, maybe?" Chloe ventured, and he shook his head.

"Parents wouldn't abandon their daughter like that, unless they were dead," Tony said, a strange look on his face, and she shrugged.

"Then maybe her parents are dead," she said, and Tony nodded quickly.

"Abby's going to have my ass when I walk back inside. She wanted to talk, and I didn't," Tony said, and motioned towards the elevator.

"You okay?" she asked, and he nodded.

"I know you don't get this. I've got a lot of skeletons in my closet. Its good, because a I'm up for Director," Tony said," And as the rules go, you've got to have too many ex girlfriends, and skeletons in your closet if you're going to be director," he joked, trying to lighten the mood.

"That's great, Tony!" she said, and Tony smiled at her.

"I kind of want Gibbs job instead. Being that high up, you don't get to go out into the field," he told her, and Vance was waiting for them when the elevator opened.

"Dinozzo," he said, and Chloe smiled.

"I'll take the stairs," she said quietly, and Vance motioned for Tony to join him.

"This elevator office thing never gets old," Tony commented, and Vance smiled, noticing his injuries. He always tried to give them off duty on this weekend. Or at least a few days to process. They were the longest surviving team in NCIS history.

"Sorry that you had to come in today," Vance said, and Tony shrugged.

"Sorry about the shouting match," Tony said, and Vance motioned to his eye.

"You're going to pay for it in your own way. Gibbs can pack a punch," Vance commented, and Tony shrugged, staring at Vance expectantly.

"We're going to start the debriefing tomorrow. There are many differences. You'll be spending more time with me, and Chloe and McGee will be picking out a new probie," a smile spread across Tony's face.

"So I got it?" Tony asked, and Vance nodded.

"McGee is going to take control of team Gibbs, and his younger sister Sara will be taking Chloe's position. She'll be taking yours as senior field agent, and we'll be bringing in a Probie. Everything else will stay the same…"he said, and Tony nodded.

"Does McGee know yet?" he asked Vance, and he shook his head.

"He'll know when we start the debriefing…you two trust each other. It should be a good fit," Vance said, and Tony nodded.

"Okay. Thank you, "he said, shaking Vance's hand.

"You should celebrate," he told him, and Tony sighed.

"How about we just have a glass of bourbon in your office? I've had one hell of a morning," he started the elevator again, and they came out on the top floor, walking into the office, and shutting the door tightly.

Gibbs stared at them from his desk, his eyebrows furrowed.

%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%

Abby felt bad for this girl. She had a habit of thinking that people were innocent until proven guilty, even though this girl's vague background screamed she was hiding something. She was so pretty. Abby couldn't place her face. She knew it. It was so familiar. Maybe it was the slope of her eyebrows, or her ears? Her hair? She took a long sip of her Caff pow, and sat back, staring at the freeze frame. Her eyes were the most interesting, wide and innocent looking, even though she was anything but that.

"Ms. Scuito," she glanced up at the guy from linguistics, and rolled her eyes," I'm here to-"she cut him off.

"Lemme enhance the audio, Frank, okay?" she said, setting her Caff Pow down and playing around with the sound levels.

"Okay, we've got it, listen," she said, and played it. Her voice came out across the screen, and Abby frowned, listening to certain pronunciation patterns she had heard before.

" _My mother loved these books…she was almost obsessed with them when I was little, reading them to me before bed every night," _

"I'd say it was Israeli at first, the way she annunciates…then she moved. To a Spanish country, maybe to Mexico. But she learned English when she was young as well," Frank said, and she nodded.

"Thank you Frank. I'll tell Gibbs," she said, and he leered at her. She rolled her eyes as he left the room, rewinding their interaction towards the beginning of the train ride.

The kid thought she was the hottest thing he'd ever seen, Abby could tell. He kept staring at her, and she was noticing. But rather than return his glances, she…Abby stared at the screen, completely confused.

"She's analyzing him," Palmer commented from the background, having just walked in the room, "She's weighing her options, see the way she is looking at him? Every word is almost…rehearsed."

"What's she holding?" Abby questioned, and they glanced at each other for a moment before zooming the photo.

"That's McGee's signature, isn't it?" she asked, and Abby frowned.

"That's a first edition of Deep Six," she said, "Tim didn't sign the copies…the only ones that got the signed copies were…"she glanced over at him as Gibbs walked into the room. She wasn't sure if she should tell him what she'd found out.

"Hey Gibbs!" she said, slamming her fingers down on the keyboard to zoom out on the photo, he stared at her strangely, grabbing her Caff Pow and sticking it in the freezer.

"Palmer, don't you have someplace to be?" Gibbs asked, and he nodded quickly, Abby squinting at him as he walked back towards autopsy.

"Got anything for me, Abs?" he asked, and she nodded.

"Oh, I do," she said nervously, hoping to talk quickly so he wouldn't know she was lying," Frank from linguistics came down, and you know how I feel about Frank, so you totally owe me a Caff Pow, but…"he gave her a look,"Anyways, as far as Frank can tell, she was born in the middle east, and moved around the time she was seven…to a country that spoke predominately Spanish, which doesn't really say much considering most of the world speaks Spanish…but she also learned English very early on," Abby rambled, and he nodded.

"She had a Mossad tattoo on the inside of her wrist," he said, and Abby frowned.

"But she killed the Hasad's right hand, so she's not…currently Mossad?" Abby questioned, confused, and he sighed.

"They have a hit out on her. Just with a picture. No name," Gibbs said, and pulled up the photo of the girl, who couldn't have been more than six years old at the time it was taken. Abby frowned, her brain working overtime. Six? The girl had been six when she started running?

"Gibbs? If she's sixteen…" Abby realized, her mouth dropping open.

"This hit has been out on her since Mossad collapsed. She must have escaped. She must have connected in someway," Gibbs said, staring at the girls face, confused. He'd been confused since McGee had handed it to him, his eyes scanning the photograph. He didn't see the look in Abby's eyes. She was thinking the same thing he was. But he didn't want to get her hopes up.

It wasn't a coincidence. He had never believed in coincidences. She was 16 to 18 years old, and during that time frame, Ziva had left. Mossad had collapsed, and she had turned up dead, along with the rest of her family. So who was this girl? Ziva hadn't dated while she was back. It had seemed like her and Tony were getting somewhere, getting back to they were as friends and partners. But maybe they had been more?

"Do you want me to tell you what I think?" Abby said quietly, interrupting his internal monologue, and he shook his head. She scowled at him.

"Don't get your hopes up. I know what you're thinking, Abs," he said, putting his hand on her shoulder and squeezing it.

"But we'll find her, right?" she asked him, and he sighed, "And then we'll know?"

"We're going to try, Abs…we'll figure out what's going on with her. We'll help her,"

"There's that fatherly instinct you feel for the young victims," she said, hitting him in the shoulder softly, pulling away to walk towards the cooler, grabbing her Caff Pow and giving him a look.

"You get any letters from the kids?" he asked, and she nodded, her face lighting up.

Abby loved her kids, Will and Jessie. They were 7 year old, complete, nerds, and completely in love with being nerds. Abby and Tim had always taught them to be happy with whatever they were, and to not let what others though affect them. They were both incredibly smart, witty, and both had Abby's black hair. She had missed them while they were at science camp, but they'd be home in a week and things would start to get back to normal.

"Yep! They are knee deep in nerddom. I think Tim is jealous of them," Abby said," But Jethero Junior is keeping us company while they are gone," she said," I'll let you know what else I find, okay?"

"Okay, Abs," he said, and left the room, Abby staring around her before Palmer walked back in, holding an old copy of the book, staring at Tim's signature on the cover.

"The writing's on the inside, Abby, but you know that," he said, and she nodded.

"But its not…we all have our copies, ya know? Only two of us wouldn't have their copy. I know everyone kept them."

"Ziva and Director Shepphard,"Palmer said, and Abby frowned, staring at the book.

"So that narrows it down. Who could have given her Jenny or Ziva's book?" Palmer said softly, and Abby frowned.

"I don't know, but you can close the floodgates on this, because no one is going to know about it until I can figure out more, okay Palmer?" she asked him seriously, and he nodded.

"Swear on Burt," she said, holding up the stuffed animal, and Palmer rolled his eyes, putting his hand on top of the stuffed animal.

"I swear on Burt," he told her, and left the room. Abby just stared at the computer screen again, her eyes fixated on the book. Who was this chick?

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She gasped for breath as he pulled her head out of the water. Her reflection was murky, and the salt in the water made the cuts on her face sting. He was enjoying this far too much.

"You talk to your imaginary friends, but not to me?" Hasad growled in her ear, and she closed her eyes tightly. Her mind was somewhere else. All she had to do was think of something else. Think of Sophie. Of Tony. She felt the needle in her arm, and winced slightly, the drugs affecting her immediately.

"You're losing it," his voice startled her, and she looked into the corner, her eyes panicked. Why did he have to show up now? Just because she was thinking about him?

"You know, I think I saw a movie like this once," he said conversationally, and her head was re-submerged. She coughed when she re-emerged, her eyes fixed on him, completely ignoring Hasad. Hasad slapped her across the face, but her eyes immediately flew back to Tony's.

"Tell me where she is!" Hasad roared, and she stared at him, not making a sound.

"Maybe he should give you some truth serum." Tony said, and Ziva closed her eyes tightly again," God that stuff is a bitch. Maybe then you'd tell him that I'm standing in the corner," he almost taunted, and she stared at him incredulously.

"Shut, up," she breathed, her hallucinating getting the best of her. If she was going to be crazy, she'd better act the part. And then there was laughing. She couldn't tell whose it was.

"Why should I listen to you? You never listen to me," Tony remarked," I was supposed to have your back. I always, had your back," he said," Did you even mean that?" he added, and she closed her eyes tightly, trying to think of something else.

"That wont work, Zee-vah,"he said," You can't make me go away," she struggled against the ties holding her to the chair, and he shook his head.

"Look at you. Usually you'd have me on the ground already," Tony said, his eyes narrowed, staring at her," Maybe pointing a gun at my chest? Threatening to kill me with a paperclip?" tears welled in her eyes.

It was worse than torture.

"What did you give me?" she ground out, staring at him.

"Oh, nothing, I'm just sitting back and enjoying the ride," he commented, and Tony laughed in the background. The room was blurry, but she could still see him.

"Stop it," she breathed, and Hasad laughed, staring at her. She was having a conversation…with nothing. This was far better than he had imagined, being there for it instead of watching her by herself.

"Who are you talking to?" he asked her, and she swallowed, staring at Tony, who had moved behind him.

"Yeah, Zee-vah, who are you talking to?" Tony taunted," I thought you said you wanted to forget I'd even existed," he added sourly, leaning against the wall," Which technically makes it impossible for me to be here, if you never even met me, Dr. Watson," he said, an English accent creeping into his voice.

"No," Ziva murmured, staring at him," You don't understand." he shook his head, the ghost of a smile on his face.

"Don't I? You left. You didn't even say goodbye. And then you died! Again," he said conversationally, as her vision slid out of focus. She was exhausted. As painful as this was, she didn't want to lose sight of Tony, staring at her with that cold and calculating expression she recognized from all those years ago.

When she came to, she was back in her cell. And Tony was staring at her.

"Wake up, sweet cheeks," he said sarcastically.

"Zeee-vah,"she kept her eyes closed, refusing to open them," You're being ridiculous. He's gone. You can open your eyes now," he said, and she frowned.

"God, you really hate me that much?" Tony questioned," I underestimated you."

"You think I hate you," she found herself asking numbly, staring at him.

"Isn't that what you think, Zee-vah?" he said simply, shoving his hands in his pockets," Isn't that why you never tried to escape? Because of what you thought I'd say to you?"

"This isn't real!" she ground out,"You're not here, and the second I stop thinking about you, then you'll be gone," she breathed, and he shook his head.

"Then you know that I'm here all the time, right?" Tony questioned, scratching the back of his neck," You smell," he added, and she made a small noise.

"Don't patronize me," she shot back, and he laughed," Don't throw that in my face, don't throw what we-"he cut her off.

"What we shared? A six-month relationship that obviously didn't mean much to you? Were you ordered to gain my trust too, Ziva?" he asked," Because I wouldn't doubt it. I trusted you," he said.

"Stop it," she whispered, a tear slipping down her face. She shouldn't have let her emotions come to the surface," These are my own-"

"Doubts. Not mine?" Tony finished, winking at her.

"And that just proves that I'm more real than you think," he told her softly," Even though you hate me, you can't stop thinking about me," he added, slightly cocky.

"I do not hate you," she whispered, even though she knew it was what she had said to him the last time they had spoken.

"Oh, sure you do," Tony said, sitting down in front of her," You would have told me otherwise," he said quietly.

"Do you think I wanted to leave?" her voice was shaking," You are just the product of my fears!"

"Oh, Zee-vah. That's not what I was talking about…"he trailed off, glaring at her. His eyes strayed toward her stomach, and suddenly she understood. It wasn't about her leaving. This was about Sophie. The fear that he would never find her, the fear that he would never forgive her.

"She wasn't your concern," Ziva muttered, and Tony rolled his eyes.

"Not my concern?" he asked back, his voice raising," She's my daughter how the hell could she not be my concern! Were you concerned that she'd grow up without someone there for her?"

"You were a wild card, you said so yourself," she breathed, staring at the ground.

"Go to hell," he responded, her head pounding as his image started to fade.

"I'm already there," she mumbled to no one in particular, letting her eyes slide shut again.

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"Dinozzo," Tony glanced up from his desk, rubbing a hand over his eyes quickly, to stare at Gibbs.

"Sorry," Tony said softly, staring back at the computer screen, at the girl's face. It had taken him a bit of searching in his apartment to find his high school senior photo. And now, staring at it, he saw the similarities. Her nose was his nose, her eyes were just like Ziva's, but were flecked with the green that was his. This was crazy, but it explained everything.

"I need to ask you a question," Gibbs said simply, and Tony sighed.

"Six months," he responded, taking a sip of the coffee on his desk," We were together for six months," he added quietly.

"Dinozzo," he started, and Tony shook his head.

"I'd appreciate it if you didn't tell anyone else about this. Not unless you have to. I got enough sympathetic looks the first time she disappeared because everyone thought I never told her," Tony muttered.

"When?" Gibbs asked quietly, and Tony scratched the back of his neck.

"Can we save the interrogation until after you retire and I'm the director?" Tony questioned uncomfortably, and Gibbs raised an eyebrow.

"Boat?" he said, and Tony nodded, setting down his cup of coffee and following him out the door. He wasn't sure what was going on exactly. But if it was a start to him and Gibbs being on speaking terms again, that was fine with him.

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Okay, Im sorry this is so short. School is bogging me down. I've been getting a few comments that maybe the plot is trying to cover too much and that it's too ambiguous. I will tell you that it is meant to ambiguous, and the plot will narrow into one continuous story a few parts ahead. I found it necessary to describe the backgrounds of the characters and where they are now, as well as explain a few things before I pulled everything together, otherwise you'd be even more confused, and where is the fun in that? The ambiguity is MEANT to be enticing, to draw you in. I promise I'll explain everything, and no stone will be left unturned by the time this is finished. I should have more time to write tomorrow, we're trying to sell our house, and my teacher changed a due date so Im going to have to post this as only ten pages, although I would have wished it could have been more. (sad face)

To you who helped with the hallucination scene, you know who you are. Thanks! I really appreciated it. More than I can say. I will probably use your help in the future and bounce ideas off of you, because you've proven to be really helpful.

That being said, please tell me what you think. I had a bit of trouble with the Chloe/Vance/Tony scene. I loved writing the other two.

-Jena


	6. Part Three 2 of 2 sorry for the wait!

Catch me if you Can-

Part Three 2 of 2

Jena Rink

October 24, 2009

Disclaim- Don't own it. Mark, Sydney, Peter, Connor, Chloe, Sophie,Hasad, and McGee and Abby's twins are my own characters. Everyone else does not belong to me.

Authors Note- So I really enjoyed writing this part. It was fun. I used someones idea for one line (popcorn machine-hahaha). Thanks for all your support. I should be posting again sometime soon, I promise.

"I loved her hair," Tony muttered, staring out at the river,"She had really soft hair. It smelled good, ya know?" he turned back to look at Gibbs, who was fighting back a smile, staring at him.

It was almost surreal to be able to talk about her, after all the years of hiding his emotions concerning anything to do with their relationship. He'd gotten so good at it, that now, with alcohol to fuel his fire, he was saying stupid sentences like I loved her hair. He hadn't loved her for her hair. There was much more than that about Ziva that enticed him. Starting with the fact that he'd wanted her for so long and not been able to have her, and ending with the way she always knew what he was thinking by taking a simple look in his eyes.

She called him on his indiscretions, head slapped him when he flirted with other girls, or just pretended to be his wife so they'd leave him alone. She was incredibly possessive of him, something he hadn't expected. She was everything he'd ever wanted, and she'd been there for years, standing there behind women he didn't love, women he was assigned to love, and feelings they both could not express. He took a long sip of his drink, wincing as it slid down his throat.

His happiness at being able to express this agony that had been eating away at what was left of his heart was short lived. Because he couldn't be the new Director of NCIS that was preoccupied with his partner he'd fallen in love with and lost so quickly all those years ago.

Tony turned towards Gibbs, noticing the way he was downing drink after drink as well. It must have been his yearly ode to Jenny, at least. Jenny. She was great too, almost like a mother to Tony as he'd gone on his undercover assignment. He wished he could do as well as she had as Director, but not to let his feelings get in the way.

"You think I need to get this out of my system?" Tony asked softly, and Gibbs shrugged.

"It never leaves your system," he responded, and Tony squinted at him. Behind that rough and tumble exterior both of them had perfected over the years, they were both human. Gibbs had been hurt too.

"I know," Tony responded miserably, leaning back to stare up at the stars,"There is not enough liquor in the world to make me not think about it," he added, setting his drink down finally. Was she watching him?

Tony wasn't a strong believer in the afterlife, but he was frequently put in situations, especially concerning Tim and Abby's kids, that would have made Ziva howl with laughter. Changing his first diaper when he offered to babysit, trying not to mock them as they won their school science fair, finger painting with them on a Sunday afternoon. He would have been a good father. Maybe? He had never gotten the chance.

"You have to learn to balance it," Gibbs supplied,"And you'll do fine," Tony snorted.

"How do I balance finding out I might have a 17 year old daughter with briefing tomorrow?" Tony questioned softly, his hands behind his head, legs stretched out across the cushion.

"You have to pull yourself together. I think you're more than capable of that," Gibbs said, and Tony shot him a look, a smile creeping onto his face.

"I think that's the first compliment you've given me in almost twenty years, boss," he said, and Gibbs slapped the back of his head when he sat up, reaching for his glass again.

"Ouch!" Tony said indignantly, rubbing the back of his head as he took another long sip,"You going to teach McGeek to headslap in training?" he added, and Gibbs laughed softly,"Do I have to stop calling him nicknames once I'm the director?" he asked, and Gibbs rubbed a hand across his eyes.

"Well, you'll have to stop in public, probably," Gibbs commented, swirling the liquid around in his glass.

"So what do I do about Sophie?" Tony finally asked, "If that's even her real name," he added under his breath, voicing what had been thinking about the majority of the day,"She shouldn't be able to handle a gun like that…why is she running?" he mused.

"I don't think the question is why she's running…is where she's running to," Gibbs countered, and Tony nodded.

"We didn't do a Bolo. She might end up in the wrong hands," Tony responded, and Gibbs nodded.

"I know some people that keep an eye on her for you. Just until we find her," Gibbs said, and Tony ran a hand through his hair, staring at him.

"We're idiots," he remarked, and Gibbs cracked a smile,"It was stupid to let pride step in the way of friendship."

"Don't get sappy on me, Dinozzo," Gibbs responded, his eyes twinkling. But Tony knew he understood. And just like that, their feud of so many years had vanished.

"Abby knows something. She had that look in her eyes when I showed up in the lab," Gibbs said a second later, and Tony's eyebrows raised as he thought about it. Abby had been twitchy today, avoiding him almost.

"Palmer was looking twitchy today too. You think they're in kahoots?" Tony asked him, and Gibbs nodded seriously.

"They were talking when I walked in. She had a picture of McGee's book up. Deep six. Autographed copy," Gibbs remarked, and Tony's eyes narrowed.

"Why would she do that? She could just look at her own?" Tony asked, and Gibbs shrugged.

"The girl had a copy. It was on the tape. We have it from the kid's interview," Gibbs supplied, and Tony squinted.

"He only autographed them for us. Told me it was because it was special. That they'd be worth a lot since he'd used our names and back-stories," Tony said, "But I know none of us would sell them. I still have mine."

"Everyone has theirs. And I have Jenny's," Gibbs responded, and Tony closed his eyes tightly.

"Most likely Ziva's, then," Tony added a second later, "So why does she have the book after all these years?"

"I doubt Ziva was honest about her past," Gibbs said, and Tony nodded, his drink forgotten. It was starting to make sense.

"She wouldn't want to tell her outright, would she? Especially if they were in danger. She would have hidden the information," Tony realized," So if she read her the book when she was little, she would have realized eventually how similar Lisa and Ziva were…and that maybe the others were real too," Tony finished, and Gibbs grinned.

"And there is that inner investigator," Gibbs responded, and Tony ignored him, his mind working in overtime.

"Do you think she left her clues?" Tony ventured, and Gibbs nodded.

"Which means she'll probably end up in Washington eventually," Tony said.

"That's exactly what I think she's doing…we got a CCV still of her in Russia. Another in China. It seems random, but I'd come to the conclusion that maybe Ziva left her clues," Gibbs said, and Tony nodded.

"So if she's in Paris, or even if she's not, she could be on her way here," Tony said, staring out at the water,"She could already be here," he added.

"We'll figure it out. I'll deal with Vance. You have some reading to do," Gibbs remarked, and Tony stared at him, eyes narrowed.

"You want me to read all of Timmy's books?" he asked incredulously, and Gibbs nodded.

"We'll compare what we found on Monday," he told Tony, "But for now, lets just try and relax," he held up the bottle, and Tony sighed, pouring himself another glass.

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Monday morning dawned bright and early, and found Abby and Tony riding up the elevator silently. It had been a long weekend. Tony was staring at his cell phone, reading an email from Gibbs, while Abby fought back a yawn. He'd only relaxed to shower and change, devoting the majority of the weekend to re-reading all of Tim's books, and looking for some sort of pattern in the locations Gibb's had photos of Sophie being in when he wasn't being briefed by Vance.

"Tony?" he glanced up at her, and back down at his phone.

Abby had been on edge all weekend too, hardly sleeping. She had said it was because she missed the kids, but Tony didn't buy it. They were nuts, and she was glad to have two weeks off with no baby McGee's running around the house. Crazy, semi gothic, incredibly smart and sarcastic children.

"Whats up?" Tony asked, her prepared for her questions. She stared at him quizzically. He was totally hiding something. She knew it. His eyes were darting around, and he'd clearly had too much coffee. He was running on fumes, and she was going to try and take advantage of it.

"What are you doing? I know this week is always hard, but you weren't home on Saturday night, and you didn't sleep last night," Abby said, and he frowned. She'd noticed. Well, what better way to fight fire with fire.

"You didn't either," Tony pointed out, and she stared at him strangely, "I saw the light on in Tim's office until 4am," he pointed out, and she rolled her eyes.

The elevator fell into silence again, but both of them were thinking to the point that the tension was touchable. Abby finally reached out and pressed the stop button, the elevator plunging into near darkness, before turning to face him.

"Do you know something?" Abby asked, and Tony stared back at her. She couldn't see his face completely. And she wasn't good at interrogation, but maybe if she tried, really hard, she could get him to crack.

"Do you know something?" Tony asked back quickly, and she raised an eyebrow, staring at him, unblinking. She was a horrible liar. If he didn't get her to crack, Gibbs would.

"I don't know anything," they said at the same time, and Tony crossed his arms.

"You and Gibbs are looking for her, aren't you?" Abby asked, and Tony shoved his hands in his pockets, avoiding her eyes.

"I don't know anything," he answered, and she grabbed his cell phone from his suit pocket.

"Abby!" he scolded, and she frowned. He'd already erased the screen.

"You're being sneaky!" She accused, and he shook his head,"You always leave me out of stuff!" she pouted, and Tony was strongly reminded of her daughter.

"Not as much as you," he responded simply, and her mouth dropped open. When the elevator dinged, he walked out of the elevator, grabbing the coffee off of his desk, and heading upstairs, sharing a look with Gibbs before he went into the director's office.

"Abs?" Gibbs questioned, and she spun around to face him. He was staring at her the same way Tony had. She wasn't sure if she could stay silent. It was so hard to lie to Gibbs. She'd been bursting at the seams all weekend. Maybe she could just avoid him?

"I'll be downstairs," she said quickly, not meeting his eyes, and turned back towards the elevator.

"Abby," Gibbs said, and she turned around, staring over him at the clock.

"My office?" she gulped, Tim staring on in interest. She'd been acting strange all weekend.

"I need a Caff Pow," she said quickly, walking in the other direction. Gibbs rolled his eyes. Abby was a horrible liar.

"She didn't sleep all weekend," Tim commented from his desk.

"All weekend?" he said, interested, and Tim sighed.

"Well she slept on Friday…but for the last two nights she's been holed up in the office all night," he said, and Gibbs got up to follow her.

"We'll start in an hour, McGee," he said, and he nodded as Chloe came out of the elevator, a handful of files in her hands, noticing the tension in the room.

"What happened in here?" she questioned, and Tim shrugged, glancing around for a moment before responding.

"Something with Tony and Abby, and then something with Abby and Gibbs,"he mused, taking a sip of his coffee.

"I couldn't find Ziva's file," she told Tim, sitting down at her desk," But I found Shepphard's,"he frowned. Someone had Ziva's file?

"Someone had checked it out?" Tim questioned, and she nodded.

"Yeah, Director Vance. Weird," she said, plopping down in her chair. McGee gave her a strange look.

"Everyone is acting weird. I ran into Tony at the coffee shop and he looked like a zombie," she told him, "He's probably just tired from all the briefing and training and whatnot," McGee frowned.

"Tony got the Director position?" he asked, and she nodded.

"He texted me about it," she told him, her mouth full of muffin,"Saturday night. Said he was with Gibbs on his boat. Which is also weird, because I didn't even know that Gibbs had a boat," she said, and McGee glanced over at Tony's desk, "Let alone that him and Tony had ever hung out outside of work. They've hated each other since the first day I got here, remember?" she asked him, and Tim nodded, distracted.

"I have a bunch of files here to go over, bout the new probie…you up to it? It is going to be your team after all," McGee nodded, looking up at MTAC one last time before deciding that he might as well get to work. They'd tell him eventually.

"Sure, Chloe," he said, rolling his desk chair over to her area so that they could go through the files together, both of them momentarily forgetting about what was going on in the office.

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Tony sat down in the conference room, staring at the file in front of him, containing codes and names he needed to memorize. He needed more coffee. His mind felt bogged down but what he had learned over the weekend. It was becoming more and more of a possibility that Sophie had to be his.

"Kind of like Memory?" he asked tiredly, and Vance rolled his eyes.

"You can't make flashcards with this information. It just needs to be stored up there," he pointed to Tony's head, and he nodded, downing the rest of his coffee.

"Got it," he said, staring down at the paper, trying not to get distracted, "Anything else for today?" he added sarcastically, and Vance nodded.

"You and Gibbs are talking again?" he ventured, and Tony nodded,"He asked me to look up some information on David for him. You know anything about that?" Tony sighed, glancing towards the door. How much Gibbs wanted to share with Vance remained to be seen.

"Its related to the girl. The one that killed Hasad's brother," Tony informed him, and Vance nodded, surprised at Tony's openness concerning the situation,"We think she's a David," he added, and Vance made a strange face,"I know it sounds hinky," Vance shot him a look,"Sorry, I've been living with Abby for too long…but her accent, her mannerisms, the Mossad Tattoo…"he trailed off, staring at Vance, gaging his reaction.

"I pulled her file, looking for any sort of pattern, which was what Gibbs told me to do," he pressed the piece of paper into his hands. It was her Mossad file, detailing all the places she'd been to in her first years as an agent, before her transfer to Washington. St. Petersburg, Shanghai, Kuala Lumpor, Paris, London, Moscow, Maui, Morocco, Bagdahd, Barcelona, Frankfurt, and Washington, not in any particular order.

"I'm gonna need the dates on these," Tony said, and Vance nodded.

"Why are we examining her past missions?" Vance questioned.

"She might be following Ziva's path. Its not a lot to go on. But its enough to at least look into it. I wouldn't get the commissioning papers out at this point. We need to know more," Tony responded,"There might be a pattern," he added.

"You think she'll end up here eventually,"Vance stated, and Tony made a face.

"Lets…work on the Director stuff?" Vance nodded, "Because I was thinking…we should get a popcorn machine in MTAC…that place just screams movie-"he trailed off at the look on Vance's face,"I was kidding," he said, and Vance rolled his eyes, fighting back a smile and grabbing his coffee cup.

"You've been downing coffee like it was your lifeblood, Dinozzo. Miss a lot of sleep this weekend?"

"You could say that," Tony said, and Vance sighed.

"You're going to need more coffee. We have meetings all day," Vance said.

He didn't realize that Tony hardly ever slept. When he did, it was just a slew of nightmares, none the same as the last. It made more sense for him to just not try to sleep at night. All Tony's nightmares consisted of were his mistakes. And he had made plenty of mistakes.

"Dinozzo?" Vance asked, and his head snapped up.

"I can handle it. I don't sleep much anyways," Tony remarked, pouring himself another cup, taking a long sip of the bitter liquid.

"I have a meeting with Interpol in five minutes, you coming?" Tony nodded, setting the piece of paper down and following Vance towards the door.

He'd have more time to focus on Sophie later.

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She stared out across the water, internally berating herself for believing that Peter had really meant small cruise ship. She should have done her homework. Because the Queen Mary 2 was anything but small, and they were all out in the open. Sydney didn't seem to think it would matter, considering they had gotten onto the ship without any problems. Sophie begged to disagree. To let her guard down would be careless, especially when they were so close to Washington. Sydney had a contact waiting for them in New York, and then they'd be there. In Washington. What she was supposed to find, exactly, Sophie didn't know.

The water was pretty. She tried to use it as a distraction, watching the sun sink beneath the horizon and the water turn from a dark blue to black, almost like glass. It wasn't working. She was getting more angry with her mother by the minute. Why was she making her do this? Was your life really worth it to live if all you did was run? If you had murdered someone by the time you were six years old? If you were basically trained to survive, and nothing else?

Most people were on this boat to have a good time, and Sophie, was holstering a knife under her dress, trying to balance in high heels at the same time. While she had a strange craving for working undercover, whether it be for her own personal gain, or just the strange adrenaline rush she got from manipulating those who were against her, she knew it couldn't last forever. Eventually she'd get caught, or if she dared to dream, she'd find her father, end this war that had started with her mother's death so many years ago.

"Sophie,"her head snapped up, staring at Sydney, who was smiling at her, her eyes watery.

"Oh stop it," she told her, slightly annoyed as she tried to straighten her dress. This cruise adventure was a bad idea. It was far too out in the open. Anyone could notice her, though she doubted she had been alerted to the authorities at all, save for NCIS. She'd made sure of that when she left with Connor. It became their case the moment he had been involved,"This is ridiculous," she added to Sydney.

"Your mom would crying right now too. You look so grown up," Sophie rolled her eyes, trying to fix the strap of the red dress that hugged all her curves.

"I doubt she'd be amused that I'm impersonating a singer on a cruise line just to get a visual on the room," she told Sydney, crossing her arms once Sydney had fixed the dress, handing her some lipstick.

"Im sure she had to do it once or twice. Your mom had a good voice," she told Sophie, and Sophie sighed, scrutinizing her reflection in the floor length mirror.

"I remember," she told Sydney, thinking of all the lullabies she had been sung as a toddler as she put on her lipstick.

"You better not be filming this with your glasses," she warned Sydney.

"I have to film the room," Sydney reminded her, and she closed her eyes momentarily.

"Break a leg!" Sydney called, as Sophie made her way down the ships hallway towards the longue, appreciating stares constantly being thrown in her direction.

She looked forward to the day when she could just be normal. If that was even possible anymore. Because this was as far from normal as it got.

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_She must be dreaming. It was late, and the clock ticked as she caught her breath, her hair strewn across his chest. The room smelled of sex, and a soft song filtered through the stereo, wafting down the hallway and into his room, where clothes were strewn haphazardly across the floor, in no particular order. _

_There wasn't anything normal about this. She played with his chest hair silently, listening to his heart beating faintly against his ribcage. His hand came up to rest in her hair, and she tilted her head upwards, sharing a silent look with him. _

"_Hi," he breathed, and she smiled. _

"_Shalom,"She murmured, and he couldn't help the silly grin that came across his face when she stretched across him, their legs tangled together underneath his comforter. _

"_Zee-vah," he breathed, and she grinned at him, moving up his body to kiss him softly, tucking her head in the space between his neck and shoulder, kissing his neck quickly before resting her head there, her breath puffing against his skin. _

_There were never too many words needed between them. The banter was saved for the pre-foreplay, those times when they wanted to be together but couldn't. The sex itself, was silent, everything being spoken in touches, caresses, and looks that seemed to last for hours. _

_His fingers combed through her hair, still slightly damp from the shower they had taken earlier, twirling the strands between his fingers. _

_She had never felt so content then in those moments, where there was no need to talk, to bring up anything about what could go wrong. Just to relish in the moment where they could be close without worrying. _

_They knew it was Monday. They knew in a few hours they'd have to let go of each other and pretend for eight hours that nothing was happening. That they weren't together. That they were just two co workers that happened to have amazing chemistry in the field. _

"_Dinner tonight?" she asked, pulling away from him reluctantly, and squeaking as he tugged her backwards. _

"_Where are you going, Ms. David," he teased in her ear, and she rolled her eyes. _

"_Tony, its four am…we have to get ready…eat breakfast…"she said, and he sat up, pulling her backwards until she was leaning against him. _

"_What if I just have you for breakfast, Z?" he questioned, and she smiled. _

"_I already think you had me for dinner, and dessert, and a midnight snack, and if you continue to have me for all your meals, you and I will both be very exhausted, and I will hardly be able to walk," she commented, tilting her head up to kiss him softly, his hands coming to rest around her waist. _

"_What's so wrong with being exhausted?" he asked breathlessly, their eyes locked. _

"_I am beginning to see reason in your ramblings, Tony," she said, and grinned, turning around to straddle him, their thighs brushing against eachothers. _

"_I love you,"he said, and she smiled, her nose brushing against his. _

"_I love you too,"she breathed softly, her eyes bright as she stared at him. And then the alarm went off. She sighed, the moment coming to an end, and moved to get off of him. He held her in place, and she stared at him in confusion. _

"_Someday we're not going to worry about all of this work crap," he promised, brushing a stray hair away from her face, her hand coming up to lace with his. _

"_You are so positive of this?" she questioned softly, and he nodded. _

"_Oh yeah,"he told her, leaning forwards to peck her lips softly. _

"_You are so optimistic. I wish I had that," she said against his lips. _

"_Waffles?" he asked her, and she squeaked when he picked her up bridal style, setting her next to him. _

"_You are going to give us both diabetes with these sugary breakfasts you keep concocting," she told him seriously. _

"_You should put something on. I can't cook when you're naked. You're distracting," he responded, and she let out a full blown laugh, leaning against the wall to stare at him, her face feigning disappointment. _

"_Well if you cant get anything done while I'm naked, I believe I will just have to stay clothed in your presence," she said, raising an eyebrow and pouting at him. Her face turned to one of indignation when he ran at her, throwing her over his shoulder and running towards the bedroom. _

"_Tony! The waffles!" she scolded, her face flushed, and he shook his head. _

"_We'll get burritos on the way," he said, peppering kisses across her collarbone,"The waffles can wait," he added huskily, and she fought back a smile, staring down at him. He was perfect. _

And then, the colors of the sun starting to shine through the window were fading away, as if being washed off a window. His smile, his lips on her skin, the smell of the waffle iron heating up, and the soft music all faded until she realized she was in her cell, leaning against the wall awkwardly, her arms scraping the brick behind her.

It was a dream. More so a memory, but a dream. Well, he'd been right. The last thing she had time to think about was being with Tony. Because Tony hated her. She'd dug her own ditch in that respect. Maybe that wasn't right. He would have known the correct idiom. But all musings aside, he'd made it perfectly clear that she was never to contact him again. Her father had relished in that one. She had started to wonder, somewhere between being forced to leave Washington and her family's death, how she could have come from something so evil as Eli David. Her duty to her country, and to her family, had blinded her for so long that when she finally noticed she was a pawn, it was too late.

Her stomach was churning from hunger. She'd stopped noticing how bad she smelled, how long her hair was, or how ratty her clothing had become. Her throat was sandpaper dry, and her muscles were cramping, the injection site from whatever he had given her was burning against her arm. Maybe it would be better if she was just dead. She wouldn't be in pain anymore. If word got back to Sophie and everyone else, then they could move on.

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The music started out soft, and although Sophie's eyes looked seductive, she was scanning the room, her eyes on alert for anyone that resembled one of Hasad's men. Her hands gripped the microphone nervously, butterflies in her stomach. Although singing in public did make her nervous, the butterflies were mostly attributed to the danger she was about to put herself in by doing this. If they were here, they could kill her in an instant. And she relished in that fact. There was something so film noir about this, a classy club, her dress, everyone in suits and gowns. It was a world Sophie hadn't seen since she was very young, on the arm of her mother at Israeli government functions.

"Now, you say you're lonely, you cry the whole night through," she crooned, her eyelashes lowered suggestively as she leant against the piano,"Go on and cry me a river, cry me a river…I cried a river over you," she made her way down the steps, and spotted an attractive brunette man eyeing her dress.

"Now, you say you're sorry," she almost sighed, leaning towards the man, and his eyes widened in shock,"For being so untrue," this was definitely not a man sent to follow her. He was shocked she was even looking at him,"Go on and cry me a river…cry me a river, I cried a river over you," she pushed his shoulders softly, and his face reddened. She smiled back at him, turning to face a man in the corner.

"You drove me, nearly drove me, out of my head,"she sang, staring around the club provocatively,"While you never shed a tear," she leant against the wall next to the man that eyed her appreciatively, and had been staring at her all night.

"I remember, I remember, all that you said,"she poked him in the chest and spun on her heel, walking back towards the stage. Not him either,"Told me love was too plebian, told me you were through with me and now-"she leant back against the piano,"You say you love me, well just to prove, you do…."she took a long breath, her eyes focusing on a man in the center of the room,"Go on and cry me a river, cry me a river….I cried a river over you….I cried a river, over you. I cried a river," she drew the word out, and took a small breath,"Over, you.."

"They're all clean. American," Sydney's voice said in her head, and she nodded, walking backstage.

"You want me to get to know them better?" she asked, and Sydney laughed,"Get to know everyone better?" she added.

"You're having too much fun with this,"She said,"Remember the tal-"

"I remember the talk, "she said quickly, her face reddening,"Just try not to listen in the entire time. Just watch the necklace,"she said, and Sydney rolled her eyes.

"Be careful," she said in her ear, as Sophie traded her long red dress for a shorter blue number.

"Always am," she responded cheekily, walking back out into the bar and sitting down on a stool, motioning for the bartender.

"Vodka Tonic?" she asked him, and he nodded. She instantly felt someone sit next to her, and pivoted slightly to face him.

"Can I buy you a drink?" he questioned, and she raised an eyebrow, taking in the man that had been leaning against the wall, now sitting next to her, his eyes scanning her small frame.

"Sadly, I have beaten you to it," she teased, holding up the glass when the bartender handed it to her.

"I'm Mark," he said, and she smiled, holding out her hand for him to shake it.

"Maria," she lied, flashing him a coy smile, and taking a long sip of her would be easy to crack. He wasn't Mossad. But he was something. She just had to get him drunk enough to find out.

Okay. I seemed to have covered every storyline at least once. Haha.

Let me know what you think?

-jena


	7. Part Four 1 of 2

**Catch Me if you Can**

**Part 4 (1 of 2)**

**By Jena Rink**

**Disclaim- I believe you know this already, but I do not own NCIS. Ha.**

**Thanks for the reviews everybody! I sincerely hope you enjoy this chapter. It has a little sex in it, but it is in no way graphic. I felt okay writing it because I was 17 when I lost my you know what. Haha. Italics are flashbacks or dreams.**

The door slammed open with a bang, the intertwined bodies making their way towards the bed, mouths fused together. It wasn't the first time she had done this. When she took off her necklace, she was sure Sydney had lost it. The earpiece was in her small clutch, so she couldn't hear it anymore.

They had a week. He clearly wasn't Mossad, or anything else. He was sweet, doting, had paid for the majority of her drinks, and had no idea she was only 17. It wasn't the biggest indiscretion she'd ever committed in her quest to find her mother. The only difference being that this time, she was simply with this man because she wanted to be, and not because it was expected of her.

The alcohol was making her foolish, but she didn't seem to care at the moment. She was simply living for the simplicity and harshness of this situation, his hands splayed across her back as they played with the zipper on her dress, the feeling of his arms up against her, his lips peppering kisses across her neck.

Afterwards, they laid on the sheets, Sophie's head resting on his chest as he stroked her hair, catching their breath. She was staring at the mirror over the table in his stateroom, watching their reflection. She was almost completely relaxed, but was not able to ebb the tension out of her joints, not matter how much alcohol she consumed. She was too used to being cautious. Mark interrupted her inner monologue a second later.

"You okay?" he questioned, his hand moving her hair aside to trace patterns on her back, and she nodded, leaning up to kiss his jaw and then his lips gently, her arms holding her up above him as her legs moved into a crouching position to hold herself up. He rolled her over, and she squeaked, their eyes meeting in the semi darkness.

"I'm alright," she breathed, her eyes soft. He was so cute. She felt stupid. He must be at least 21. He was simply another notch of her bedpost. She was so used to not being with men that she simply used them, even if there was a spark.

"Maria?" he questioned, and she swallowed, burrowing her head in the juncture between his neck and shoulder, kissing it softly, wishing she could stay.

"I have to get back to my room,"she breathed, and he grabbed her wrist when she tried to get up. She shot him a look, and he frowned.

"Who are you?" he questioned, his hand clasping her wrist, his thumb tracing over the inside of it. Her face paled.

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Tony felt like the walking dead. His hair was standing on end, his eyes were bloodshot, and he was very sure that he might just have to stay at the office overnight, use his spare suit, and take a shower in the chemical spills shower in autopsy. But he'd developed a pattern. He'd gotten somewhere. With Vance's help, he had now figured out the pattern.

And the pattern led to Washington next. He was the last one in the office, the remnants of a pepperoni pizza in a box next to his desk, and a large coffee sitting lukewarm in front of him. He'd been too focused. If she wasn't in Paris, she was on her way here. She had to be.

"_You think they could have changed the orange walls," her voice surprised him, and he glanced up, glaring at her desk, or what used to have been her desk,"Its been almost twenty years, and I can still smell the fresh paint," she said jokingly, and his eyes narrowed. _

_Great. Now he was hallucinating. That was just…great. _

"_Don't mock the Titanic," he told her, "It won too many Oscars," he glanced back down at the sheet of paper he'd been working on, and fed it through the shredder, attempting to ignore her, sitting at her old desk, now inhabited by Chloe. _

"_This picture of you and the blonde girl, its nice," she commented, picking the frame up. Tony knew the photo. It was right after the now yearly tradition of watching it's a wonderful life, Chloe leaning against Tony, both of them grinning at the camera. _

"_Her name is Chloe," Tony remarked, and Ziva nodded, the look on his face not escaping her, whether she was real or not. _

"_Protective of your probie, Tony?" she questioned, and he clenched his jaw. _

"_What are you doing here?" he asked finally, and she shrugged, as he fed more paper into the shredder. She clearly knew more than she was letting on. Even if she wasn't real. _

"_Covering your tracks?" she questioned, crossing her arms. _

"_Well, since you were so good at it, I thought I'd give it a try," he responded, his tone biting, and she leant back in her chair, putting her feet up on her desk. He couldn't stop looking at her face. Her nose, her wide brown eyes, her hair. He hadn't realized he was gaping until she laughed. _

"_Still twitterpootted, Tony?" she questioned, and he shook his head. _

"_Its Patted," he responded,"And what I am, is very, very tired, running only on coffee and pepperoni pizza, and alone," he added, glancing around the office, realizing that it was almost dawn. _

"_And that is different from any other day, because?" she questioned, like nothing had happened in the last seventeen years,"I am amazed your hair is still blonde…"_

"_You don't look a day over thirty-five," he said back conversationally, and she sighed. _

"_Appearances can be deceiving," she murmured, and he frowned. What the hell did that mean? And then his sarcastic defense mechanism took over, controlling his words before he could really think about what he was saying. _

"_Well, you're just like Katie, except for the gunshot wound. And I'm appreciating the fact that you're not all water logged, because that would be kind of gross," he found himself saying, and she made a face momentarily. _

"_What?" he asked, and she turned to stare at him for a second. _

"_You really shouldn't have second guessed yourself, you know. The first time?" she ventured quietly, and he frowned. _

"_Am I drunk again? You always talk ambiguous when I'm drunk. It's really aggravating," he commented, and she shook her head. _

"_You are not drunk," she accentuated the last word of her sentence, walking towards him, "But you may be hallucinating, "she added as an after thought, "It certainly could be considered a sidekick from all the alcohol you consume on a daily basis."_

"_Side effect," he corrected, his eyes scanning her face hungrily. _

"_And you?" he found himself asking softly,"Where are you?" she frowned, and he was surprised to see tears in her eyes._

"_Right where you left me,"she breathed, the image evaporating in front of his eyes, punctuated by a head slap. _Awe Christ. Gibbs had caught him.

"Ouch!" he groaned, turning to stare at Gibbs, his head pressed against the spirals of his notebook, where he'd been taking notes.

"You figure it out?" Gibbs questioned, taking the last slice of pizza out of the box.

"She's on her way here,"Tony said under his breath, still trying to wrap his mind around the dream he'd just had, "If we're right," he added, "Because at this point all we have is a path to match up and she's been in every place Ziva was, and a few in the books, actually. But not to Washington." He groaned softly, grasping at the strands of his dream as they slipped between his fingers.

"Bad dream?" Gibbs asked sarcastically, and Tony shot him a look.

"Something like that," he responded, rubbing the back of his head,"An alarm clock would've done, boss," he added, and Gibbs snorted.

"Would you go home and attempt to get some sleep?" he asked, and Tony shrugged.

"Autopsy," he muttered, going towards the elevators. Gibbs just stared after him, shaking his head. He was going to work himself to death trying to find this girl.

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"_I still do not understand this Halloween tradition," she told him sourly, and he shot her a look, still trying to get the blue out of his teeth. She was being sneaky. She hadn't even showered that morning, opting instead to leave while he was in the shower himself. She had followed him into the bathroom, like she had been doing more and more frequently, and he shot her a look. _

"_You're doing pretty well in the pranks department," he commented wryly, his speech obstructed by the toothbrush as he scrubbed at his teeth in the men's restroom,"And why are you in here again?" he asked her, and she raised an eyebrow. She walked up to the sink, staring at his reflection in the mirror, and leant backwards, staring at him. _

_He had bags under his eyes, and blue teeth, regardless of the fact that he'd won the Larceny Lotto. They hadn't had time to talk since that day, not in depth anyways. The sexual tension had risen again, because of what they had not been able to do in the past few days. They'd slept in the same bed, sure, but nothing had gone on. _

"_Ziva?" he questioned, and her head snapped up. She'd been staring at his chest again. He had a great chest,"Why are you in here?" he repeated, their eyes locked, the sexual tension in the room multiplying ten fold. He put the toothbrush back in his mouth, and she chose that moment to act. _

"_Being completely at your mercy," he almost choked on his toothpaste. Tony swallowed thickly, staring at her. Her hair was down around her shoulders loosely, and she was giving him a look he wasn't sure he could refuse. Those damn bedroom eyes. _

"_You're being naughty," Tony started, taking the toothbrush out of his mouth and tensing when she moved to stand behind him, her arms sliding around his waist. _

"_Mmm, naughty?" she nibbled at the edge of his ear, and he made a strangled noise in the back of his throat," I do not think I have been naughty in a couple of days, do you, Tony?" _

"_You're really wearing at my self control,"he told her through clenched teeth, and she fought back a laugh, glancing at his reflection in the mirror, his normally composed face flushed, his eyes locked with hers in the reflection. _

_The noise by the door surprised her, and she spun around, seeing Palmer in the doorway, staring at them, his mouth open in shock. Why did he always come to work early? It wasn't even seven! She turned around slightly, her eye catching his, and his face reddened. _

"_Um…"he started, and she responded without thinking. _

"_There are at least five things in this room I could kill you with," she said promptly, and his face paled. He walked out of the door, and Ziva locked it, her laughter echoing off the walls. She was almost certain he would have fainted had he stayed a second longer. _

"_You didn't need to threaten him again, Mrs. Smith," Tony joked. _

"_He is so…switchy…"she told Tony, who rolled his eyes, turning around to face her, bracing his hands on the back of the sink. _

"_I think you mean twitchy," he said, staring down at her, a soft smile on his face. The awkwardness was certainly gone. But if they were not at the office, he would have pulled her into a stall and ravished her. Her voice broke his trance. _

"_He is still imagining me naked, is he not?" she asked him, taking a step towards him. _

"_He's not the only one," Tony added, his eyes scanning her frame in the way that only he knew how, and Ziva raised an eyebrow._

"_You are still undressing me with your mind?" she asked, and he pulled her towards him until their hips touched. _

"_My eyes, Zee-"she cut him off, kissing him gently, their mouths fused as he set his toothbrush on the counter, forgetting about it momentarily as he twirled a piece of her hair between his fingers, his other hand reaching beneath her sweater, running his hand across the warm skin of her back. _

_He pulled away, and fought back a laugh, staring at her face. _

"_What?" she murmured breathlessly, and he pointed to the mirror._

"_Oh, you cannot be serious," she breathed, staring at her teeth, which were slightly tinted blue._

"_You're going to have to use my toothbrush,"he said, and she scowled, staring at him. _

"_Is that sanitary?" she joked, and moaned when his mouth descended back apon hers. _

"_Um, guys?" McGee asked, and they broke apart, panting, staring at the door,"Gibbs was just wondering why you're both holed up in the bathroom again?" they pulled away abruptly, straightening their clothes and hair, before Ziva had a bright idea. _

"_This mobile campfire thing is ridiculous! Just because I am at your mercy does not mean I have to follow you in the bathroom and drink the same coffee I gave you!" Ziva said suddenly, widening her eyes at Tony so that he got the hint. _

"_Keep telling yourself that, Probie!" Tony said jokingly, tucking a strand of hair out of her eyes, kissing her again gently, grabbing his toothbrush off the counter. They let go of each others hands right before Tony unlocked the door, Ziva hitting him on the back of the head., her eyes telling him that it was just for intents and purposes. They'd talk later. _

"_What is going on with you two?" McGee asked Ziva, catching her arm, and she shook her head. _

"_He is insufferable," she remarked, her eyes filled with mirth as she watched Tony try to scrutinize his teeth, which were now only slightly blue. Her teeth were worse, she was sure. So it was very important to make McGee see that she had taken a sip of the drink, and not of Tony's lips. _

"_Uh huh," McGee said, staring at the look on her face, and then her teeth. _

"_He made me drink the damn coffee. At least the prank I pulled on you had easy clean up," she told him, winking before walking to her desk. _

_The memory was slipping away from her again. She tried desperately to grasp at the strands of it. Tony's blue teeth, her lips nibbling on his earlobe. And then it was_ gone.

And she couldn't breathe. Something was wrong. Her lungs felt like they could hold no air, and when she did get air into them, it felt like they were on fire. Her body jerked violently against the cold stone, and she gnawed at her lip, willing the tears not to fall down her cheeks. The injection site on her arm was burning, and her arm almost felt numb from whatever he had given her this time. Hopefully it was the end.

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"Okay, Palmer. What do we know?" Abby asked him, both of them holed up in her office, the heavy metal turned on high. She was sick of trying to find answers with no forensic evidence. She wasn't a fan of the deductive reasoning that everyone else had to use on a daily basis. And she could tell he knew something she didn't. He was being twitchy, even for Palmer.

"Just the obvious," he said, and she slammed her hands down on the table. He jumped.

"You know, its not like we're protecting anyone," she told him, amazed that she had managed to avoid Gibbs for such a long amount of time. He knew she knew something.

"Maybe…I may know something…that could help," Palmer said, and she stared at him skeptically.

"And…"she prompted, and he sighed, running a hand through his hair,"Come on Palmer…if you think it'll help, I need to know."

"Well, you um…you remember that phone conversation they had? In MTAC? " Abby nodded, her mind flooded with memories," She told him he meant nothing to her, that he should stop hoping for something that would never happen?" Abby winced.

"Yep," she managed, and Palmer sighed.

"He wasn't hoping for something that had never happened. They were together for six months," she spit out her Caff Pow, staring at him incredulously.

"WHAT?" she shouted, her eyes wide, and he winced.

"I kind of walked in on them in autopsy…and the men's bathroom, and in the parking garage, and in the stairwell…"he trailed off, wincing again when she hit him on the back of the head.

"God, that explains everything, "Abby muttered.

"Yeah," Palmer said softly, and glanced up when he saw Gibbs in the doorway.

"Abby, there's something else," Palmer said, reaching into his pocket to pull out a letter.

"This came for McGee today. From Ducky…he called me, said that a girl gave it to him in Paris," Abby's eyes narrowed.

"What hotel? What time?" he wrote down the information as Gibbs opened the door, staring at them strangely.

"Abby," he said, and she stared at Palmer.

"I'll find you later," she told him, staring up at Gibbs, her lip shaking.

How could she not have seen it? How happy they were? It never made sense. But what had happened to make her leave? That was why Tony had never told him, she was sure. Why he'd been so withdrawn, why he drank so much, why he never dated. They'd always thought he forever held a candle for Ziva. But he'd been with her. That's why Tony was such a mess. That's why the girls face unnerved him so much. God, poor Tony. He must have been going through hell.

"Abby…" Gibbs' voice snapped her out of her reverie.

"Did you know?" she asked, her voice slightly on edge, staring at the letter, "Did you know that Tony and Ziva were…"

"No," Gibbs said, sitting down in a spare chair, staring at her.

"God, poor Tony,"she whispered, and he pulled her into a hug. She was surprised when she started crying. Abby hardly ever cried. Not since Kate. But now she couldn't stop.

"Gibbs…"she sniffled, and he smoothed her hair down, "Ducky sent Palmer something…"she pointed out the envelope," It was supposed to be for McGee…but a girl gave it to him in Paris...I have his hotel. I'll check the surveillance," he nodded.

"Good work, Abs," he said, getting up to go towards the door.

"Where's Tony?" she questioned, and he sighed.

"I think he's in MTAC, Abs. He's got some political dinner with Vance tonight," Gibbs said, and she sighed softly, watching Gibbs leave the lab,"Check the letter for forensics. Call Ducky, and get me that tape," she nodded, watching him get into the elevator before grabbing tissues from her desk drawer, dabbing at her eyes. She wasn't sure if she should just ambush Tony, her anger getting the best of her, or just give him a hug.

_So, thoughts??? Let me know! I tried really hard to get this out to y'all asap. _

_-jena_


	8. Part Four 2 of 2

Catch me if you Can

Part Four 2/2

Jena Rink

Disclaim- Duh I don't own NCIS. If I did, Tuesday would not have been a repeat…ha

Authors Note- I'm really amazed at your comments. Seriously, totally…flabbergasted. If only I could coerce my own ideas into making enough sense so I could write something original. Sigh. But I digress...some may have mentioned that they thought the sex scene was unnecessary, and I really struggled with whether or not I was going to include it, or I was going to throw it on you later and surprise you. I think, for one, that this story has had enough surprises, past what I've already been keeping a secret. This is short. Its not going to answer some of the questions you want answered. Actually, Its not really going to answer much. But its…necessary. So…I hope you like Mark. I really, really, really like him as a character, he develops more down the road, he's going to be featured more predominately in the story from now on. You all are wonderful, I write for your praise and comments. And its SNOWING at my house! In New Mexico. Can you believe it? In October? And I woke up yesterday to everything being frosted like a gingerbread house…it was wonderful. I should have something out by tomorrow. This has been done in drafts since Monday, I was just tweaking it. I rewrote the first part seven or eight times. So I hope you like it. I have to do some research…so you might get a snippet tonight or tomorrow, and then probably nothing until Monday because I have homework and life, and we just got a roommate so I have to clean a lot. Sorry, this is a crazy long authors note. Haha. Enjoy!

-Jena

This was very, very bad. She mentally yelled at herself while backing slowly away from him, her shoulders tensed, until she was at the foot of the bed, staring at him, her eyes narrowed. Who was he? He hadn't set off any red flags in her mind. He'd passed every test she instantly used to judge someone when she met them. It served her right for letting down her guard.

"Who are you?" she voiced her thoughts, holding back from doing something rash. There were two doors out of this stateroom, and a window that went onto the deck, if she could fit through it. Her knife was in her clutch, along with her radio communication. This was so incredibly idiotic of her, Sydney was going to kill her if and when she got out of this situation.

During this internal monologue, Mark just watched her, not saying or doing anything except for staring at her. She noticed, and pulled the comforter, which was laying haphazardly on the side of the bed, up to cover her. And then it became a staring contest, each party trying to break the other into speaking. Mark was the first to cave, a strange look in his eyes.

"I'm not here to hurt you. You don't need to find a weapon," he said cautiously, and Sophie stared at him, not moving a muscle. If he'd been touching the tattoo, then he must know what it was. He must have been looking for her, and she must have been too caught up in the emotions of seeing Sydney and Peter again to notice.

"Everyone wants to hurt me, Mark," she responded softly, and his eyes softened. Sophie stared at him in confusion. If he was going to kill or capture her, he would have done it already, wouldn't he? He genuinely looked concerned, but there was something else there. Something Sophie didn't understand until she realized that he was analyzing her as well. Maybe he was waiting for something? A sign? Her body was tight, like a coil ready to spring into action at any given moment.

"You're really tightly wound," he said finally, and she didn't relax a bit. Was he baiting her? Paranoia was starting to creep through her veins, driven by the amount of alcohol she'd consumed into the morning hours, followed by the exertion of sleeping with him. She was getting a headache.

"You're very observant," she said sarcastically, not daring to reach for her clothing, just incase he attacked. She couldn't afford to take her eyes off him, not until she figured out his agenda. He seemed almost fascinated with her. It was unnerving.

"Who do you work for?" she asked a second later, and he stared at her, flabbergasted. She was continuing to amaze him with every word she spoke. It was like he was living in an episode of Alias, and he was the spy that had been caught by the enemy. Or at least that's what Maria thought of him.

"I'm a Junior in College. NYU?" he responded, and she took in his own body language. He was worried, but she wasn't sure about what. In the meantime, his body was almost completely relaxed, slumped against the pillows behind him. Either what he had wanted had already been accomplished, or he knew something she didn't," I'm majoring in Law and Psychology Your body movements…they say you're hiding something. Actually, everything about you says that you're hiding, that you're running. I've noticed it all night. You couldn't relax, even when you were drunk," he told her, and she crossed her arms, staring him down.

"Isn't that just a matter of opinion?" she questioned, and he shrugged.

"What are you running from?" he countered, and she flinched slightly, staring over at him. She'd slept with him because she didn't want to think about her past, and now he was questioning her on it? Her throat was burning, her chest felt tight, and her stomach felt as if he'd dropped lead in it, heavy. She didn't like this feeling. Was it hurt? She wasn't sure, but either way, it was a stupid thing for her to feel, considering she'd used men for information before. But for some reason she'd felt different about Mark.

"I don't think you would believe me if I told you," she responded quietly, her voice thick, and he noticed the tears in her eyes, waiting to spill at any given moment. He hadn't meant to scare her.

"Are you okay?" he asked softly, and she tried to back up, the small of her back hitting the headboard, when he came towards her.

"I'm fine," she responded softly, fighting the tremor in her voice.

Her hair was a mess, tousled about her shoulders, her lips swollen, and her throat tight. Her eyes were staring at him calculatingly, defensively, even as moisture gathered in them. Every move was completely thought out, except for the fact that she was showing emotion. He doubted that she even realized she was. She was struggling for control.

"I'll tell you whatever you want to know," he offered quietly, and she straightened, the façade of control back on her face.

"Do you have any tequila?" she questioned, and he shot her a funny look, walking towards the mini bar as she watched him like a hawk, grabbing two small bottles and tossing her one. She caught it effortlessly, and opened it, opening the lid and letting the warming liquid slide down her throat, her eyes never leaving his.

"Who, slow down speed racer," he commented, and she wrinkled her forehead in confusion.

"I do not know what that means," she responded, and he squinted at her.

"Just, take it easy on the tequila?" he ventured, and she nodded silently.

And then he understood why she was being so strange. She clearly wasn't American. He doubted she knew what she was, besides her birthplace. And she was young. Her eyes and face, which openly displayed a hardness only learned by trauma, had a soft quality to it. Something that wasn't obvious until now, her mascara smudged, her cheeks slightly pink.

She looked young, too young to have so many secrets. She had maintained the façade of appearing as if she was incredibly tough, sarcastic, and sultry. But Mark saw right through it. She was scared, terrified, hurt even. Her fingers clutched the comforter against her almost desperately. He regretted even bringing up the tattoo on her wrist for a moment. But she was a puzzle, and he was going to figure her out. If she'd let him.

"Stop analyzing me. Tequila is my favorite," she remarked softly, and he coked his head to the side.

"Are you from Mexico?" he asked her, and she squinted at him for a moment.

"Something like that," she responded evasively, taking another sip,"Can I ask you a question now?" she added, and he nodded.

"Shoot," he told her, and she stared at him strangely. What in the world did shoot mean? She was never going to fit into American society if she didn't learn their sayings.

"Shoot, what?" she asked, and he couldn't escape the laughter that bubbled up in his throat. Her cheeks reddened.

"You can ask me anything you want," he explained, and she bit her lip, staring over at him, considering her options.

"My wrist-" she started, and he glanced at the tattoo again.

"I saw it last semester in one of my textbooks…in world history," he ventured, "It's Mossad…Israeli," he added.

"Very observant of you to make that connection," she remarked. "And?" she added softly, and he shrugged.

"It was an identifying mark for the upper division officers and their families," he responded, "But it hasn't been used in almost-"

"12 years," she finished, her fingers playing with the edge of the blanket nervously.

"So why would it be on your wrist?" he asked her, and she glanced down momentarily. Now was the moment to decide how much she should trust Mark. He seemed harmless, "Because anyone with that mark on their wrist was killed by Hasad."

"Words can be misleading," she said cautiously, her eyes meeting his. And then he understood that maybe this wasn't her choice. Why would someone have that mark, which had condemned so many others to death, on their body now?

"You had to have been eight years old when that happened," he realized, and she shrugged, not offering an explanation. It was best if he didn't know everything.

"Sometimes, things are not always what they appear to be," she said, and he frowned. She was being too cryptic.

"Okay, Obi Wan," he said, annoyed, and she frowned.

"Who is Obi Wan?" she questioned, and he shook his head, staring at her in wonder.

"You are something else," he responded, and she felt herself flushing under his gaze, which was almost penetrating every shield she had fought to establish.

"Is that bad?" she asked him, and his eyes sparkled with mirth.

"No, its not," he assured her, and she sighed inwardly. For someone that was usually so good with words, they seemed to be failing to help her at this point. She was getting more and more unable to keep her guard up with this boy.

"You cannot tell anyone what I've told you," she said quietly, and he nodded.

"Your secrets safe with me," he responded, glancing up at her questionably.

"My name is Sophie," she supplied, "My real name is Sophie," she added, and he smiled.

"I'm sorry for freaking you out. The least I can do is take you to breakfast," he stated, and she glanced at the clock, confused.

"Its five am…"she pointed out, and he grinned, another plan in mind.

"Do you like Pizza?" he asked her, and she couldn't help the smile that lit up her face,

She hoped he was harmless. For all intents and purposes, if she was with him constantly, she'd be able to tell if he was up to something. So she got dressed, carried her heels in her hands down the hallway of his deck, and followed him to the pizza bar, still confused with the emotions he was evoking within her, emotions she was sure she'd never felt before.

&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&

_Dear Special Agent McGee,_

_I have been hoping to contact you for some time. My mother was very fond of your books, and read them often to me when I was a child. I often imagined what it would be like to meet you. She spoke of you often, and fondly. She said you were friends. I do not know if this was truly the case, or an attempt by her to make the stories seem more real to me. She passed away when I was very young. I have been trying to figure out her past, something she never let me understand, since her death. I am going to attempt to get to Washington to see you. I cannot say when. Life has never been a certainty for me. I feel that she would want us to meet. I have always thought that maybe you held the answers to the questions I've always had. Now that I am older, I think this may be a possibility. I need help. I cannot keep running like this, not forever. I would like to speak with you, and possibly to the director of NCIS. I may have something you need. I feel like we would have much to discuss. I understand if this seems too strange to you, or if you do not trust me. I have grown up with few people I could trust surrounding me. I sincerely hope we will get the chance to meet. I will contact you if I arrive. _

_-A Friend _

Abby stared at the letter in shock, Palmer looking over her shoulder as she read the short note, searching for a hidden meaning. She needed the tapes. After yelling at the security people from Ducky's hotel for over an hour, Palmer had walked in and convinced them in fluent French, which she didn't even know he spoke, to send the tapes to Washington. But they wouldn't be in for over a week.

"She wants to meet with Tim?" Palmer asked, confused, and Abby nodded, wracking her brain for some sort of explanation.

"We'll know more when we get the tapes. Its completely clean. I couldn't get any forensics off of it but Ducky's," she told him, their eyes meeting. It was very early in the morning, and they had yet again pulled an all nighter, despite the fact that this was supposed to be her time to relax while her kids were gone, and that she wanted to find Tony and hug him, scream at him, or throttle him for not explaining that he had been with Ziva, behind all their backs, for months. She was very emotional, and very tired.

"So she's coming here, maybe? If its here?" Abby clenched her teeth, staring at the paper. This girl, if she was Sophie, was incredibly gifted at being ambiguous. She had no idea whether or not it was Sophie. If that was even her real name. There wasn't a record of her anywhere in Israel, and Abby had checked neighboring countries, hoping to find a passport or some form of identity. For all intents and purposes, she didn't exist. Facial recognition, fingerprints from the crime scene in Paris, all of it had come back with no match. She was a complete mystery.

"You want me to go get donuts and Caff Pow?" Palmer questioned, and she turned to stare at him, nodding silently, her brain working overtime.

"Thanks, Palmer," she breathed, as he left her alone in the lab, staring at the piece of paper, twirling a strand of her ponytail between her fingers.

"Honey?" her head shot up to see Tim in the doorway, staring at her strangely. She gave him an incredulous look right back.

"Since when is my pet name Honey?" she asked him, and he raised his eyebrows.

"You didn't sleep last night again, you're mainlining Caff Pow," he informed her, and she sank into her chair, tucking the letter hastily into a spare drawer.

"Super important stuff for Gibbs," she informed him, and he frowned.

"That's no reason for you to waste our vacation," he told her, concerned, and she motioned for him to come and sit next to her on the futon. He did, and she leant her head against his shoulder, closing her eyes tiredly.

"Once I get these security tapes in from Paris, I'll take a nap," she told him, "And I have analyze the gun they found in the alley outside of the Intercontinental. The serial number is filed off, but I think I can swing it," she mumbled against his shoulder.

"How's the training?" she questioned a second later, and McGee shrugged.

"Its nothing I don't already know. I've just been tailing Gibbs. Which is what I usually do anyways," he told her, and she snuggled further into him, groaning softly,"Tony's is much more intense. He's up to something," McGee commented, and she glanced up at him, concerned.

"He hasn't been home either," she realized, and Tim shook his head.

"It's too quiet at home, " he said, and their eyes met.

"I'm sorry,"she mumbled, and he kissed the top of her head.

"I know Abs…just try to get the bulk of this out of the way before the kids get back?" he asked, and she nodded,"And try to get some sleep? At least a litte? I get worried about you," she leant up and kissed him softly.

"Love you," she yawned, and he grinned down at her.

"I love you too Abby," he said, kissing the top of her head as the phone rang.

"Whoops!" She shot up, reaching for the phone, and answered it.

"This is Abby," she said, her voice bright even though she was exhausted, and Tim watched her in wonder as she scrawled something down, "God, thanks Jerry! I thought it was going to take forever! You're the best. Yeah I got it," she said, looking at her email,"Bye," she hung up, and glanced over at him.

"The serial number on the gun was only partially filed off," she informed him, opening the email, "And given the make and model of the gun, Gerry was able to reference where it was used. By the Feds. Here. Between 2007 and 2009…so we ran a search using the last few digits, and…"the results came up, and her jaw dropped.

"There was only one missing that matched these perameters," she finished softly, and McGee frowned.

"What did you…what?" he breathed, staring at the screen as Chloe walked into the room, carrying a Caff Pow and a box of donuts.

"Palmer just got a dead body in…he sent me with this," she said, holding it out to Abby, who took it, her eyes glued to the screen.

"How is that even possible?" Abby asked Tim, and Chloe frowned.

"Well we never got it back. It went missing when she went missing. Along with her badge," Abby breathed, staring at the screen as it blinked at her.

"Guys, what's going-" she bent her head around to stare at the computer screen.

"The gun was registered to Ziva David?" she questioned, and Abby nodded.

"Sure seems that way. It all seems to be matching up," Abby said softly, her brain working in overtime.

"The gun that that girl used in Paris?" Chloe responded, raising her eyebrows.

"That gun," Abby said softly, squinting at the computer screen,"Um…Chloe, could you go and get Gibbs? I think we need to have a campire," Chloe frowned.

"He's taking Sara through orientation," she commented, and Tim made a face.

"What about Tony?" Chloe added, and Tim and Abby shared a look.

"I think he has enough stress right now with the Director training," McGee ventured, and Chloe sighed. It didn't feel right, leaving Tony out of this. He seemed the most emotionally connected to the situation, but she hadn't gotten to read Ziva's file yet. It was still in Vance's office. Still signed out. She had no idea what they were going to find out, but it would significantly affect Tony's future either way. That was for sure.

**Well, I hope you enjoyed this super short bit. Let me know what you think? And thank you to the regular reviewers. You know who you are. You are the best best best BEST in the world, and I think I might send you some actual understandable spoilers sometime in the near future. **

**-Jena**


	9. Part Five Part 1 of 3

**Catch me if you Can**

**Part Five (one of three)**

**Jena Rink**

**Authors Note: OH MY GOD. I am so so so so incredibly sorry this took so long to post. I was all ready to do deep editing on it, and get at least this out to you on Monday, when I started to feel sick. Turns out I had an intricate combination of the flu, a sinus infection, and strep, and I've literally been sleeping since Monday afternoon. I just jumped on periodically to inform some of you I was sick, and to check my email…but Im starting to feel better. So I thought I'd give you this. Apologies in advance if it's a bit disjointed. I was going to wait and post it all, but obviously I've been sick so I don't really have it all done yet. **

**So if you have any questions ask away. I will answer them to the best of my ability. Thank you so much for the reviews, I continue to be amazed, and heres the post…there may be some grammar errors because I still have a fever…blah. And I'm not going completely by cannon anymore, but this loosely follows it. **

**-Jena**

**(Flashbacks/dreams are in italics)**

"_Agent Dino-"he flashed the woman washing her hands a smile, and she rolled her eyes,"This is the ladies room," she added sternly, a smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. He still had it, even though Jean the copy lady was not the most attractive woman working at NCIS, she still found Tony attractive. Everyone found him attractive. As he had stated earlier, he was the "American Dream". _

_The teasing with Ziva had picked up since she'd been studying. He'd known Gibbs had called her in, and had been quizzing her via instant messenger the entire time she'd been at the office, almost until five when he had to get ready himself. Coffee had kept him fueled since then, but she'd been so busy that she was almost falling over by the time the case was resolved. She'd come into work this morning, and promptly excused herself to the bathroom. That had been thirty minutes ago. _

"_How about I buy you coffee later?" he asked, wigging his eyebrows at her, and she nodded, flustered, dots of pink appearing on her cheeks. _

"_She's in the last stall," the woman said, and he nodded, clicking the lock shut after she left the room, clearing the room silently before seeing one high heel clad foot poking out of the last stall. He tried not to laugh, and ventured closer to the back of the restroom. _

"_Ziva?" he questioned, opening the stall door a crack to see her sitting on the floor, her head against the side of the stall, clearly exhausted, dark circles under her eyes. She shook her shoulder gently, and her eyes snapped open, her hand reaching for her gun. He stopped her cautiously. _

"_Hey, Z, it's okay…its just me…you're at work…"he reminded her, and she nodded finally, her hand letting go of her gun, her eyes coming up to lock with his. _

"_Hi," she managed, suppressing a yawn, and he brushed a stray lock of hair off of her forehead,"I fell asleep in here again didn't I?" she added under her breath, and he nodded. _

"_I don' t know what it is with you and bathrooms," Tony remarked, and she rolled her eyes, attempting to sit up further,"You really should invest in a bed or something," he added, and she shot him a look, getting to her feet with his assistance. _

"_You know I'm stuck in the Naval Yard Housing until my assets get transferred," she reminded him softly, checking her appearance in the mirror as his hand came to rest on the small on her back, rubbing small circles in it,"But I am having trouble getting sleep,"she admitted," With the drills, and the noises…"she trailed off, leaning against the counter, staring at her reflection. He stared at her eyes in the glass, his eyes narrowed. _

"_Nightmares?" he ventured, and she turned to stare at him, the smallest twitch in her pupils letting him know he was right, and that was why she wasn't sleeping. _

"_Look…I have a spare room," Tony said, and she moved, his hand dropping from the small of his back quickly. She glanced at the door, and then back at his eyes, who were still searching her face for answers. She was petrified of letting Tony into her life in that way, regardless of how much she knew he cared about her. Every time he made an advance, she either blocked it completely or ignored it, the perfection of a dance she had a life's worth of practice learning. Never let anyone get too close. _

"_Do you really think that would be the best idea?" she found herself saying, gauging his reaction cautiously. His eyes hardened, and he turned away from her, running a hand through his hair. He wasn't sure how many times he would offer to help her before she would accept. It was starting to get frustrating. If the old Ziva had died in Somalia, the new Ziva was still not comfortable with accepting help from anyone, even people she claimed to trust. _

"_Well if you don't want to that's fine," Tony found himself saying, an edge to his voice, and Ziva winced slightly, before hardening her resolve. _

"_I am too tired to quarrel with you right now, Tony. And let me remind you, I am not made of glass," she said, slightly annoying, clenching her fists to keep her anger in check. _

_It was amazing the lengths she would go to to keep people from getting close to her. It was unnerving. Tony found himself losing his temper as well, his words getting the best of him. _

"_Obviously, because sometimes you act like you're made of stone," he shot back, and walked towards the door, "When you realize you can't do this by yourself, you can come find me," he added, unlocking the door and shutting it behind him, leaving Ziva staring after him, her hands still clenched, fighting back tears that threatened to spill over. _

_The rest of the day was a blur, slow, filled with paperwork, silent stares from Ziva, and a tension that filled the room. He was glad to escape it and go home, find an old black and white movie, order a pizza, and drink beer. When he finally pulled up at his apartment, it was to see the lights on. He frowned, climbing the steps, and when he opened the door, it was to see a pile of bags, two feet peeking out from the bag of the couch. _

"_I ordered you a pizza," her voice wafted over the cushions, and he shook his head in disbelief,"Your lock was very easy to pick," she added, as he kicked off his shoes, dropping his badge, sig, and keys before sitting down next to her, her head leaning back onto his chest when he started to play with her hair. _

"_I am sorry,"she offered quietly, and he dropped a kiss on the top of her head, pulling her closer against him, one of his hands lacing with hers. This was the perfect ending to his day, as new as it was. _

"_Me too," he responded,"You're just so damn stubborn sometimes, David," he said in her ear, and she leant her head back, their eyes locking. _

"_I am trying," she reminded him, her eyes uncharacteristically wide and vunerable. _

"_I know, Z," he breathed, pulling her up to sit on his lap, kissing her softly, pulling away to hold her against him, her head resting on his chest comfortably. _

"_What are we watching?" she asked him softly, and he grinned, spotting a dvd on the coffee table and launching into a detailed description. _

She didn't remember ever being in so much pain. He must have done something else, something to truly make her loose her bearings, go crazy. Her past was playing on repeat, a loop of memories she couldn't change, couldn't relive, and couldn't fix.

"You will tell me," his boot connected with her rib again, and she felt a slight crack ,the pain almost making her lose consciousness.

"No," she managed to rasp, despite the pain it caused her, and he grabbed her by the hair, throwing her against the wall, her head snapping back against the concrete, stars exploding in front of her eyes.

"-ony," she mumbled under her breath, and he smiled.

"Agent Dinozzo? Is that who will make you talk?" her eyes grew panicked, and he noticed.

"NO!" she tried to yell, her breath escaping her shallowly, the image in front of her fading before she fell back into the blackness. As nice as dreaming was, it was a reminder. But the blackness was comforting. Ziva relished in the thought that the blackness couldn't read her. It couldn't see her thoughts and exploit them. The blackness couldn't make things any worse. So she succumbed to it.

* * *

I look forward to it," Tony said, faking a smile convincingly, so sick of shaking hands and pulling of a smile that his lips ached and he felt like he was a puppet. Was he really cut out for this? He wasn't even sure anymore. His mind was swirling with thoughts of Sophie, and the dream he had had about Ziva. It was like a movie, almost like Ghost or something. But it felt much more real than that. If Ziva was the Patrick Swayzee to Tony's Demi Moore, then she was doing a much more convincing job at being alive then dead. And that was the problem. Maybe Ziva was right. Maybe drinking as much as he had been was just…short circuiting his brain or something, and he'd drop dead at any moment.

"No matter how aggravating this is…it's a necessity," Vance whispered in his ear, and Tony cracked an actual smile.

"They all have wives. I'm going to be the bitter old single Federal Agency director," Tony said jokingly, taking a sip of his scotch and glancing around the room at the hierarchy of the federal system, all mingling in the small room, occasional press around the room taking photographs.

"I know you went more of the Gibbs route, but Im sure you'll adapt to this just fine," Vance said, "It would have been easier to do if I was single, trust me," he added, and Tony nodded.

"So we're just here kissing each other's asses for a sense of comradery?" he asked, and Vance fought back a laugh.

"You hit the nail on the head with that one, Dinozzo," he remarked,"Any news?" Tony shook his head.

"Not past what I found out by analyzing her former mission patterns. Now we just have to wait. We check it every day…the passports going through customs. But her face hasn't shown up yet," Tony said softly, staring out at the throng of people.

"Well why don't you take the rest of the night off? I can handle this, and you can get rid of the bags underneath your eyes. You need to sleep," Vance pointed out, and Tony nodded.

"I'll try. 0700?" he questioned, and Vance nodded, letting Tony walk off towards the exit, watching him interestingly.

* * *

_The first morning she had woken up at Tony's apartment, she had felt more refreshed than she had in years, eating her burrito silently in the car while Tony drove them to work, their hands lightly touching across the console. It was so normal. She hadn't even realized what normal was before this point. But this must be something close. Eating something they'd picked up at the deli, grease on her fingers, while Tony sang loudly and off key to the oldie's station as they made their way to the Navy yard, his hand occasionally squeezing hers or playing with her hair. The entire morning had been something she was not accustomed too. _

"_See?" he told her, pulling into his customary parking spot in the garage, raising an eyebrow at her and smiling. _

"_You were right. I feel much better," she told him, a ghost of a smile on her lips as she cleaned the grease off her fingers with a spare napkin, putting everything in the bag quickly, surprised when he grabbed her hand again, squeezing it. _

"_It'll become something normal," he told her, surprised when she put the bag down, leant over, and kissed him softly on the lips, ruffling his hair. She was surprised at her, almost bubbliness. Certainly not something she had usually in the morning, if ever. She was acting impulsively, going with her instincts. She should have known something would go wrong. _

"_I like your hair without the gel," she said, and he kissed her again, pulling away when a set of headlights pulled into the garage. She grabbed the bag and followed him through security mindlessly, listening to him joke about something he had heard on the radio. And all the sudden she ran right into him. And he held her back, his arms reaching around to grip her forearms tightly, as something she couldn't see went on in front of her. _

"_What is going on?" she asked indignantly, and he held her tighter. _

"_Tony-" her voice trailed off as her father's voice wafted across the room. Her knees grew weak as she heard him shouting in Hebrew with the Director. Of course her happiness couldn't last. She felt her stomach clench slightly, and turned around, heading for the elevator before Tony could stop her. He pivoted, and walked towards the stairs, turning to follow her before McGee could even open his mouth. _

_She couldn't breathe. She found herself in the corner of Abby's lab, sandwiched between a full-scale model of a skeleton and the glass wall separating her office from the rest of forensics. _

"_Ziva-"Tony's voice softened when he saw her, her eyes panicked, her breath coming in short gasps,"Shhhh…."he walked over to her before she could stop him, pulling her into his arms and rubbing her back. _

"_What if he-"Tony cut her off, absorbing her tears into his suit jacket. _

"_He's not going to get you, Ziva. You're safe here. You're one of us, I've got you," he assured, and her sobs picked up. _

_Abby almost dropped her Caff Pow when she flounced into the lab and saw them, her eyes narrowed. _

"_Oh my God! What happened?" she questioned, and Tony turned back to stare at her. She understood. She went into her office, and the customary heavy metal music didn't turn on as Tony held her, trying to quiet her cries. He picked up her limp form minutes later, and deposited her on the futon, still on his lap, her arms clinging to any part of him she could reach as she started to fall asleep, the tension lines in her face erasing almost instantaneously as she relaxed. _

When she was sleeping she was the most peaceful. Tony found himself once again forgoing sleep, watching the sunrise as he remembered her. Her hair splayed across his chest, her legs intertwined with his, the soft smile that would grace her face as she woke up, her eyes disoriented until they came to rest on his face.

Where had things gone so wrong. And what had that dream meant? Right where you left me? He hadn't left her. She had left him. That last night they were together. The last night before she had vanished, nothing missing or out of place, leaving Tony to lie and almost lose his job because of the way they had been involved.

And now he was waiting on pins and needles, waiting for a daughter that he wasn't even sure was his, wondering how she could have left him in this situation. If the girl, Sophie, was his, how was he even going to start to be a father? He had no experience. And between the training for the director's job and the search they were conducting, he was at his wits end.

* * *

Gibbs sat by the coffee shop at the Navy yard, staring around him at the hustle and bustle of everyday life, his mind lost in memories, trying to find the answers to Tony's current predicament. Times were changing. He was supposed to start training the little McGee today, and Tim had already started to step into his new role. Tony was all but gone, always in Vance's office since their conversation a few days previous. Eli had only tried to collect Ziva twice before she had disappeared. Maybe he was collecting evidence? The events of that day would certainly be enough for Gibbs to have suspected something was going on between his senior agent and his probie….

"_Dinozzo?" Tony glanced up hesitantly, his fingers still running over Ziva's disheveled hair gently as she slept against him. _

"_She hasn't been sleeping. I don't think this helped," he responded, lifting her off of him and placing one of Abby's spare lab coats over her as a blanket. She slept on, unaware of what was happening upstairs. _

"_He wants to talk to her," Gibbs said, and Tony snorted. _

"_Like hell he's going to talk to her," Tony responded, his voice harsher than he intended. _

"_You want to face off with the director of Mossad, be my guest," Gibbs said, and Tony raised an eyebrow, walking past him towards the elevator. _

"_Abs…take care of her for me," Gibbs told Abby, who nodded, sitting next to Ziva awkwardly on the futon, lifting her head so it rested in her lap and she was less uncomfortable. _

_The elevator ride was silent, and Gibbs and Tony shared a look before walking up the stairs and into Vance's office. _

"_You cant go in there. They are in the middle of a mee-" Tony shot her a look, opening the door and striding in, noting the presence of Ziva's father, all, cold and indifferent, arguing with Vance. _

"_Where is Ziva?" he demanded again,"She is coming home, it is where she belongs, with her family," Tony couldn't help but snorting, and Vance shot him a look. _

"_Ziva, is as far away as she can get from you," Tony all but snarled, and Eli raised an eyebrow, taking in Tony's haggard appearance. _

"_I see you are trying to play the hero. But it is not necessary. She is coming home with me-" _

"_Like hell she is. This is her home," Tony responded coldly, locked in a staring match with Ziva's father._

"_Are you under the assumption that she needs protection? That you are protecting her from something? This is life. She has an obligation to her country," _

"_I'm quite sure she already fulfilled that when you left her in Somalia to die," Tony ground out, and Gibbs clapped a hand on his shoulder. _

"_Will you keep him on his leash, Gibbs?" Eli questioned, and Gibbs let go of Tony's shoulder, his gaze hardening. _

"_Ziver is far too good of a person to have such a horrible father," Gibbs said, and Tony stared at him in surprise,"And the only reason I haven't let Dinozzo have a go at you is because it might become an international incident if he does," he added, and Eli smirked. _

"_You have no self control in America. It is saddening," he said, and Tony bit his lip. _

"_They beat, raped, and tortured her within an inch of her life, and you knew what you were sending her in to! You knew it!" Tony accused, clenching his fists, as Vance stared on in interest. _

"_Do you love my daughter, Agent Dinozzo?" Eli questioned, racing an eyebrow, and Tony flinched slightly. _

"_She is my partner. I always have her back. Even if it means that I have to keep her away from what is supposed to be her family. I suggest you leave," Tony said, and Eli barked out a laugh. _

"_I'm sorry, Eli. But it's her choice. She resigned from Mossad, and she's been approved as an agent here. The final decision rests with her," Vance said, and his eyes hardened. _

"_This is not over," Eli said, and Tony squinted at him. _

"_Oh, I'm sure its not," he responded, as Eli got up to leave._

"_You think you will always be able to protect my daughter, Agent Dinozzo? She is not invincible, you out of all people should know about that," Gibbs squeezed Tony's shoulder tightly, preventing him from punching the man. _

"_Go to hell," Tony muttered, turning on his heel and striding from the office, Gibbs staring after him in interest. _

Gibbs was snapped out of his daydream by McGee, who was waving a folder in his face.

"Boss?" he glanced up quickly,"Sara's waiting …we're supposed to start training her today," Gibbs nodded distractedly.

"I think you can handle it. I have something to look into," Gibbs said, and McGee stared after him strangely as he walked back towards the parking garage. What was he doing? It seemed like everyone had a secret agenda these days, while they should be working together. Whatever it was, McGee would find out. He just had to ask the right questions.

So??? I hope you liked it. I promise there will be more. I cannot cram everyone's plotlines into one post. Lol.

-Jena


	10. Part Five 2 of 3

**Catch me if you Can**

**Part Five- two of three**

**Jena Rink**

**Authors Note- I felt so bad for not posting for a week that I decided to post this too. Haha. So I think you have like….7000 words of goodness with what I posted last night. Woot. Haha. And some plot move along things. Because there were none in the last chapter since it was mostly flashbacks. Anyways, I don't own NCIS. Enjoy!**

Gibbs made his way into the Embassy with little difficulty, knowing the right people to speak with. And then he ended up in a room with many computers.

"I need to research births," he said, and the man nodded, leading him over to a computer.

"The country, year, and city are easy enough…you need to have at least a few letters of the first and last name for it to be accurate," the man told him, and Gibbs nodded, staring at the computer in annoyance. Technology was all encompassing these days. He sat back in his chair, and repeatedly typed in the parameters. It would have to have been that year. It was just a question of finding the city. And then he did. His eyes narrowed in disbelief, staring at the name flashing on the screen. It was almost too easy to find it. If you knew what you were looking for. They just hadn't been looking for the right name.

* * *

She was nervous, but a different kind of nervous. Sophie mused over the so called butterflies in her stomach as she walked back to her stateroom, keys in hand. Sydney would surely have her head for this, but she couldn't seem to care at the moment. She was almost pleasantly numb from the events of the previous evening, and the pizza buffet that had followed. Mark was different. He didn't just write her off as some annoyingly stupid bimbo like most of the boys she'd been acquainted with on her quest to find answers. He wanted to know her. She wasn't sure if that scared her, or made her happy. But she trusted him more than she'd trusted a lot of people in her life, if only from one night. She almost flounced into the room, and ran straight into Peter, who was pacing. She'd made them upset. She'd forgotten they were watching.

"Peter," she breathed, and his head shot up, scrutinizing her face and the state of her outfit, as well as the shoes in her hand, raising an eyebrow. Sophie was more than an adult at this point, having well earned the title over the past three years, but that didn't stop him from thinking about her as a child still, the little girl that he'd have snowball fights with when she came to visit for Christmas.

"A little radio contact would have been nice, Sophie," he said, and she winced, guilt settling into her stomach like a pool of ice, drowning out the feelings she'd been experiencing moments before.

"I'm sorry," she said weakly, "I lost track of time…"she trailed off, glancing down, and he shook his head, a small smile on his face.

"its alright. She ran background on everyone in the room. No one was out to get you. We just worry," he told her, and she nodded quickly, glancing towards the door to her room.

"I'm going to go and take a nap?' she said, a question at the end of her statement, and he nodded.

"He looks nice. Just don't think it will be something it isn't," he reminded her, leaving her alone in the room, her exhilaration at the night's events now completely spent. If there wasn't anyone out to get her now, whose to say she couldn't have a little fun? Moments like these were few and far between in her life. So maybe she would keep seeing him. Just while they were on the ship. Why would it hurt? Who was she hurting by letting go, for once?

* * *

"I'll need those back by tomorrow at noon," the man said sternly, and Chloe nodded, toting the Bankers Box out of storage and towards the elevators, relieved she would finally have it. She was almost annoyed at being kept out of the loop. She'd been with the team much longer than Ziva had, and yet she had no answers. But this was a start. She had Jenny's files already, and the day off, so she headed for the research library, pulling out Ziva's first.

She'd been in Mossad from a very early age, passing all her exams with exemplary marks, and making her way up the ranks until she was made a case officer. She was a David, the daughter of Eli David, the Deputy Director of Mossad at the time. She'd been an assassin at one point, and then had come to America to assist in the capture of Ari Haszwari, who had eventually been shot by Gibbs. And then she'd become the Mossad liaison officer.

She'd been with NCIS on and off for almost six years before her abrupt disappearance. As it turned out, she'd gone back to Mossad, back to her father. And six years after that, she had been murdered, along with her entire family.

She was Tony's partner. They were involved in many cases, from being undercover assassins to being stuck in a loading container for hours, to her rescue from Somalia. She couldn't find much information on that, just that the mission wasn't actually sanctioned, and that once they had arrived back, Ziva had quit Mossad and begun the process of becoming an agent, having succeeded just one month before her disappearance.

It was obvious they'd been close. But the case file didn't say how much. For the last five months she was in America, her mailing address was the same as Tony's. It didn't say they were dating, but from what had been going on, she wouldn't have doubted it.

The way he talked about her when he was drunk, the way his eyes lit up…she always wished they would light up that way when he was talking about her. But that was stupid. He was clearly still in love with her, regardless of whether or not she was dead, and this girl they were searching for could be his daughter. Tony saw Chloe as a little sister, and that was never going to change.

She sighed softly, opening Jenny's file and reading what she could, her eyes widening at what had happened to her. It was horrible. And Tony and Ziva had been the ones that were protecting her. She frowned, closing the file. Maybe she was better off not knowing. It wasn't hard to realize why they were so guarded about the past, when it was so awful.

When she'd come to NCIS, they'd all been a mess, although none of them would admit it. Tony was quiet, and hardly did anything except his job, as did Gibbs. They hardly spoke. Most of her conversations were with McGee, and it wasn't until months later that she'd even gotten to know Tony at all. She was so nervous. They were all older than her, more experienced, jaded even. And she was young, fresh out of training, and excited about what the job could offer her.

"_I don't know why you want this job. Its horrible," Tony remarked one night, breaking the silence. They were the only ones left, and she glanced up in surprise. _

"_Well you're still here, aren't you?" she asked him, and he couldn't help but laugh._

"_Everyone needs a distraction. Mine is work," he explained, stacking the files he'd finished on his desk. _

"_What are you trying to distract yourself from?" she questioned, confused, and he didn't answer at first. _

"_You don't wanna know, Probie," he had responded, and gotten up, "See you tomorrow," he added, and she watched him leave, getting in the elevator, entranced by him. It was the first time they'd really ever had a conversation. It took months before he'd hang out with her outside of work, and years before he would even smile again. And she'd finally figured out why. _

* * *

Sophie was nervous again, standing in front of the mirror, scrutinizing her outfit, but for an entirely different reason. Sydney was perched on the bed behind her, going through her clothes that she had laid out.

"I can't believe you're going on a date," Sophie rolled her eyes, and turned to face Sydney, who shook her head at the outfit she was wearing.

"That's too casual," she told her, and Sophie wrinkled her nose.

"Everything is too this and too that. Why do I have to dress up to spend time with a man if he has already seen me-" she abruptly stopped talking at the look on Sydney's face,"Sorry…"she added quietly, her cheeks flushing scarlet.

"You were never one to do things conventionally," Sydney commented, holding up a simple white sundress, "What about this?" Sophie made a face. Sydney was always trying to force her into dresses, from the time she was little. Besides the ease of movement, pants were much more practical. Her mother had always worn pants.

"I hate dressing up," she started, and Sydney gave her a look.

"It's a date, Sophie," she reminded her, and Sophie begrudgingly pulled the cotton sundress over her head, staring at her reflection again, before putting on sandals. It wasn't too bad. Almost normal, if that was even attainable anymore.

"Fine, you win," Sophie said softly, pulling at the dress, trying to straighten it out, when there was a knock on the door. This felt so foreign. She liked it. Her stomach tingled with butterflies again as he opened the door.

"Hi," she managed, staring at him, dressed casually in dark jeans and a button up shirt.

"Hey yourself," he said, kissing her on the cheek, glancing past her to stare at Sydney, who was scrutinizing him.

"Your mom doesn't like me very much," he whispered in her ear, and her body stiffened momentarily.

"She's just a family friend…don't worry, "she whispered back, and flashed a smile back at Sydney before following him out the door.

* * *

"So this'll be your desk," he said, pointing to his, and she grinned.

"I get your desk? So who gets Tony's?" she questioned, turning around to come face to face with Chloe, who was putting things in boxes rather quietly, not really looking at the contents. It was a war zone. That was an understatement. It looked as if Tony had never even cleaned his desk at all.

"I do," Chloe said, her hand brushing against a photograph that was at the bottom of the drawer she was cleaning out. It was faded, and she pulled it out, her eyes widening. It was a black and white photo strip, with Ziva and Tony, making funny faces at the camera and kissing at the end, looking stupidly exuberant.

"Whoa," she managed, and McGee snatched it from her, staring at the pictures in wonder.

"Guess your writer's instincts were right after all," Sara said from over his shoulder, and they both winced when palms connected with the back of their heads.

"Ouch!" they said together, and turned around to face Gibbs, Sara passing the photo back to Chloe, who put it in the box quickly.

"I can see you're all hard at work around here,"he commented sarcastically, and McGee's face reddened slightly.

"We thought we'd take care of the desk situation first. At least for now. Chloe is going to take Tony's desk, and Sara's going to take Chloe's," McGee explained, and Gibbs nodded.

"Good. I have to go and see the director about some things. Can you stop snooping around and get something done?" Chloe and Sara nodded, their cheeks pink.

"Sorry boss," Chloe said, watching him as he made his way up the stairs. When he was out of sight, they fished out the photo strip again, staring at it.

"I never saw Ziva smile like that," McGee commented, staring at the picture, his eyebrows furrowed, "What else did you find in there?" he asked, and Chloe made a face.

"Tony is not organized or clean," she reminded him, pointing to the trash bag next to her desk.

"Gross," Sara muttered, staring at it, "Glad I'm getting your desk," she added to Chloe, and they stared back at Tony's desk for a moment.

"If he's busy, theres no harm in looking, right?" Sara asked McGee, who glanced up at the door apprehensively.

"Just don't tell anyone," he told them, starting to pack up his desk as they started cleaning out another drawer together, sorting out the junk from the paperwork.

* * *

"Ducky!" Abby's voice was gleeful as she stared at him over video chat, clasping her hands together.

"Hello Abigail. It's good to see you as well," Ducky responded, leaning back in his armchair, "I assume you and Timothy got the note?" Abby nodded, glancing down at it.

"Ducky, what was she like?" she asked, and he shook his head, a faraway look in his eyes. Abby worried that he'd launch into a story, but he didn't.

"She could have been Ziva thirty years ago, even in her mannerisms…"he said, as Palmer walked into Abby's office, holding another Caff Pow.

"Thanks Palmer," Abby said, staring at the note again.

"And I believe she was wearing Ziva's necklace…or something a lot like it," Ducky said, and Abby sighed.

"We should be getting in the footage today, and then I'll be able to tell, but I think we're talking about the same girl here…the one that killed someone at the Intercontinental," she said, squinting at Ducky's image across the computer screen.

"Most likely we are. She fits the description you emailed me. Have you figured out when Ziva had a daughter?" he questioned, and she shook her head.

"No birth records. Nothing. She doesn't exist," Abby said, softly, Palmer taking a seat next to her and examining the letter again, as McGee walked downstairs into the lab.

"Well if you find anything, please let me know. She seemed rather frightened. Hopefully she can make it to you, and you can help her," Ducky said, and Abby nodded.

"You're coming for Christmas?" she asked him, and he smiled.

"Wouldn't miss it for the world, Abigail," he signed off, and she sighed, glancing up at Tim, who had a bin in his hands.

"What do you have for me?" he asked, and she glanced down at the note.

"She went to see Ducky in Paris…brought him a note for you. Apparently Sophie, or whoever she is…wants to see you when she gets here," she held out the piece of paper, and Tim took it in his hand, setting the box down, which allowed Abby to get to work, finding the right date and time quickly among the tapes.

"She's only a child. How could she have something that could benefit us? And why is she running?" Tim asked strangely, as Abby pressed play. The tape was higher resolution this time, and when her face came on screen, there was no doubt in anyone's mind she was the girl from the murder.

"Whoa…its like looking at Ziva the day she first came here..." McGee breathed, and Abby nodded.

"Except taller," she pointed out quietly, watching the girl walk into Ducky's room, and then leave moments later, casting a fleeting glance back at the camera.

"She did that on purpose, didn't she," Palmer realized.

"I think she wants us to know what she looks like. Who she is. So when we see her, we wont be surprised she's coming," McGee ventured, their eyes glued to the camera.

* * *

He stared at her from across the table, taking in her appearance, how nice the dress looked on her, hugging her curves. She was so beautiful, more beautiful than any girl he had ever gotten lucky enough to date. He was always working on school. This entire trip was a fluke in the first place, an effort by his father to get him back in his good graces with money. And it had turned out for the best, because he had met Sophie.

She knew every wine on the wine list, what foods they went with, and the perfect etiquette for the situation. She had been trained in high society, and he could tell, because he was as well. Despite whatever training she had gotten, she was awkward around other people. She was nervous. He wondered if that was from her upbringing as well.

"You are staring at me as if I was a museum exhibit. I know you are trained to analyze, but it is weirding me out a little," she said, and he stifled a laugh, relieved when she managed to smile as well.

"Do you want to dance?" she asked him, grabbing his hand, and he followed her onto the dance floor, almost enthralled with the way she moved, how free she looked. All of the things that seemed to be bogging her down seemed to disappear when she was dancing. Her hands were warm against his, and her eyes were sparkling with mirth as they twirled about the floor, a smile on her face.

"Where did you learn to dance like that?" he asked her, amazed, and she glanced down.

"I had lessons when I was little," she said softly, and he brushed the curls that had fallen in front of her face out of her eyes.

"So…I think that maybe we should watch a movie. Considering you've never seen one," he told her, and her eyes lit up with excitement.

Hours later, she was laying against his chest, fully clothed, snoring softly as he stared down at her in wonder. She was amazing. He was still in awe that he'd found someone like her on a cruise ship. But he had a nagging feeling in his gut that maybe it wouldn't last, as much as he wanted it to.

* * *

"I have the conference in Cairo for the next two weeks, and SecNav has given me the go ahead to leave you in charge," Tony gave him an appalled look for a moment, and then corrected it instantaneously. He hadn't expected things to move forward so quickly. But here he was, basically taking the reigns.

"Gibbs will be here to help you," Vance told him, and Tony nodded,"And my things are already cleaned out. I know you know the rest," he left Tony alone in the office, as a woman poked her head in the door.

"Director?" his head snapped up, and she shook his hand,"I'm Michelle, I'm going to be your secretary," he nodded absentmindedly, going straight for the Bourbon and pouring himself a small glass, sitting down behind the desk.

"Could you um…hold my calls until I get settled in?" he questioned, and she nodded, eyeing his glass knowingly.

"Of course. I can have someone go and get your things from your other-" he shook his head quickly. There were personal things in there. Things he needed to get out himself. He'd do it later.

"No. Not the best idea," he said, and she frowned.

"Okay…"she said, leaving him alone in the room, sitting at the desk and staring at the seal up on the wall, his eyebrows furrowed. Everything was about to change. He was in the hot seat now.

"Director, Gibbs-" he shot her a look when she poked her head in the door.

"Send him in-" Tony said dazedly, staring up at the door when he walked in, setting down his glass for a moment. Gibbs looked almost amused to see Tony in the bosses' chair. But he also had something to tell him. Tony could see it in his eyes.

"Never thought you'd see the day, did you?" Tony asked softly, taking a long sip of his drink. It was late afternoon, the sun casting a golden glow over the wood paneled walls of the office, and Gibbs shrugged non-committally, sitting down in front of him.

"I found something today," he said, and Tony frowned, leaning forward.

"What did you find exactly?" Tony questioned, and Gibbs glanced at the door. Tony got the hint and hit his intercom button.

"Michelle, can you make sure we aren't disturbed again for a while?"

"Of course Director," her voice rang out across the intercom, and then it was silent.

"I searched birth records at the Israeli Embassy today. And I couldn't find a David. But I found a Dinardo," Gibbs said, and Tony's eyes narrowed, staring at the marred photocopy. She'd left him a clue. In her own little way. Sophie's birth certificate. His hands were almost shaking as he picked up the piece of paper, scanning the important information. Ziva David, mother, Anthony Dinardo, father.

"Sophia Daniella Dinardo," he read, his hand running over the name, his face paling," I think I need another drink," he added quietly, and Gibbs went to the bar, getting himself a glass as well. They sat in silence, sipping on their drinks. So much could have been said, but it had been said already. They were already looking for her. But now Tony knew.

**So? Here's something really without flashbacks. I think there was only one in this post. Haha. But I thought I'd give you a double post since I took a week off because I was sick! Lol. But it may be a few days before I post again.**

**Let me know what you thought!**

**-Jena**


	11. Part Five 3 of 3

Catch me if you Can

Part Five Three of Three

Jena Rink

Authors Note- So here's a colorful mix of flashbacks and plot advances. I hope you like it. Disclaimers previously mentioned, thanks for the reviews! Can't believe I have 88 already! WOW.

The sun was setting, blinding oranges, golds, and corals almost painted across the skyline. It was bright, but Sophie didn't mind it. It was the last night before they reached New York, and her nerves had reached new heights. What was she supposed to look for? Peter and Sophie had only been tasked with getting her safely to America. And now that she was almost there, she was petrified. And not just of what was coming next. She felt arms loop around her waist, and relaxed back into Mark's arms, staring up at him.

"You're nervous," he pointed out, and she rolled her eyes.

"I would greatly appreciate it if you would stop psychoanalyzing me," she told him, and he bit back a laugh, kissing the top of her head. They were still in that touch you whenever I can stage, and she wasn't sure if they'd ever get to graduate to something akin to a relationship. She had his phone number, and knew his first name, and where he went to school, and what he was studying. In her eyes that was enough. Because she wasn't sure being friends with him was safe. Or anything else, for that matter. The boat, or the water, or something, had clouded her judgment. While she was on the boat, however, she was perfectly fine with not caring about what was coming. And she still had over 12 hours to do that.

"Where's your head at, space case?" he questioned, and she turned back to stare at him, leaning her back against the railing.

"I'm just wondering how this is all going to play out, is all," she responded, playing with the ends of her hair nervously.

"You'll be fine," he assured her, kissing her softly on the lips.

"I hope so," she managed, glancing up at him, "After we get off the boat…I won't be able to see you for a while. You know that, right?" he nodded.

"I know, Sophie. It'll be fine," he told her, squeezing her shoulders gently, "Why don't we go and get some pizza or something, watch another movie?" she nodded, a smile creeping onto her face.

"Sure," she breathed, following him back towards his cabin, glancing at the sunset fleetingly. Tomorrow, things would change. She wasn't sure if she was ready. The boat got in late, around 10:30 the next night. And then she'd be pretty much on her own, getting to Washington and trying to find Agent McGee.

* * *

Tim opened the door from the garage to the kitchen cautiously, bracing himself for the onslaught of two screaming children. It had been so silent around the house without Tony's jokes, or the kid's energy. It was a welcome change to see his kids waiting on the other side of the glass door, their expressions excited and hyper. They'd gotten too many of Abby's genes when it came to hyperactivity. At least they'd never had Caff Pow.

"Daddy!" two black haired identical blurs launched themselves at him, and he hugged them tightly.

"Hey," he picked them both up, hugging them and kissing them each on the cheek, setting them down on the edge of the counter, where they both sat, staring at him inquisitively.

"Mom said you're the boss now! And that Uncle Tony's your boss!" Jessie piped up, her pigtails swinging as she swung her legs back and forth over the counter. She was hyper like Abby, but incredibly smart, and could focus if she wanted to. She was a big supporter of animal rights at her elementary school, very outspoken, and very loyal.

"Yep, that's right," Tim told them both, sitting down at the kitchen table, Will and Jessie jumping down and coming to sit next to him.

"Where is Uncle Tony? He's usually home by now," Will asked , and Tim glanced at the clock. Will could be classified as a mini Tony. He loved everything Tony did, whether it was watching movies or restoring his old car. And he looked really disappointed that Tony wasn't home to greet him. Tony was his favorite non biological uncle, as Jessie loved to point out on a regular basis. Jessie, surprisingly, was more attached to Gibbs.

"Tony has longer hours now. But I'm sure he'll be home in time for pizza night. He never misses pizza night," Abby said from the sink, where she was getting a snack ready for the kids.

But Tony never showed up. Abby frowned, staring at the clock, and over at McGee, who was sitting in between the twins, who were both asleep on his lap as the news credits rolled.

"Try calling him," he mouthed to her, and she shrugged, pointing to the table by the front door, where his cell phone was sitting.

"Office?" she asked, and he motioned to the kids.

"I'll be back, okay? Just…put them to bed?" she asked softly, and he nodded, leaning up to kiss her softly before she went out the door.

The building was all but deserted, and when she finally made her way up to Tony's new office, the door was closed, light filtering from under it. She pushed the door open slowly, surprised at what she found.

* * *

"_The only way we will not dispose of her, and Agent Dinozzo, is if you prove to us you are loyal only to Mossad," the words repeated themselves in her head numbly as she packed her things, the precious little things she could afford to take without Tony noting the change. He would notice anyways. He always noticed. He was so attuned to her at this point that she was surprised that he hadn't noticed she was pregnant, let alone that she was hiding something. She was tired of pretending that everything was alright, but at the same time she clung to the memories of the night before. _

_Her hands shook violently as she took the ultrasound out of its envelope, where it had been hidden between the mattresses in the guest bedroom. She wanted to leave it. She wanted him to know, somehow, that she was pregnant. That she didn't want to do this. But he couldn't follow her. She felt like throwing up. If this was grief, something she had blocked from her psyche for so long, then she didn't want to live anymore. But she had to. For the little girl that was growing inside of her, even if it was the closest she ever got to Tony for the rest of her life. _

_He was on assignment, investigating some naval drug ring in New York with Gibbs. It was her time to move, and they knew it. They were expecting her to go. The tickets had arrived in the mail slot this morning, and she knew it was time to leave. She'd been putting it off. Her legs felt like Jello, and her body was cold and clammy, her pulse beating too fast against her skin as she gathered what she needed to leave. She couldn't help but take his shirt, disgustingly sweat stained, as many times as she tried to wash it, smelling distinctly of him, stuffing it in the bottom of her duffel bag. _

_Her cell phone rang, and she picked it up, swallowing to prevent the onslaught of tears. _

"_Hello," she forced her voice to sound stoic, and listened to the instructions on the other line, tears streaming silently down her face as she walked towards the door, leaving and dropping her cell phone in the parking lot, still on. No one would suspect a thing until she'd already left the country. _

"_I'm glad you have taken the time to consider what is important, Ziva," her father was waiting for her on the plane, and she didn't spare him a glance," America has made you soft, he has made you soft. You have made a disgrace out of our family," she couldn't help the retort that flew from her lips. _

"_Don't you think you have already done that yourself?" the slap was answer enough, the blood pooling inside her mouth as she stared at him defiantly. _

"_You will learn your place if I have to beat it in to you again. Sit," he said, and she clenched her teeth, sitting down in the seat and fastening the belt as the plane started to move, her eyes glued to the window, taking in the skyline as they took off, the lights fading from her vision as her tears obscured it. _

_She didn't remember the flight, the subsequent re swearing into Mossad, the desk duty, where she couldn't be seen. Everything was a blur until she delivered Sophie, the mark her father had on her already obvious as she grinned up at her with that classic Dinozzo smile, the one Ziva had fallen in love with, and would probably never see again. _

"_What would you like to name her?" the nurse had asked. _

"_Sophia," she breathed softly, a smile creeping onto her face that there was something, even though her father didn't know it, that was distinctly hers and Tony's. _

_She didn't expect this. Things were falling apart in Israel. As much as Ziva didn't want to admit it. She was working long hours, and she couldn't stay with Sophie as much as she liked. And then the Director of NCIS had requested an audience with Director David and the Upper agents of Mossad. So here she was, feeling extremely uncomfortable, waiting for the communication to come up, her fathers look in her direction speaking volumes. She was not to speak. _

She didn't know why this memory kept playing in her head. Probably because it was her last shot at salvation, and she'd failed. She hadn't gotten anyone's attention, they were too angry with her, still, to even notice what was going on.

"Your daughter just entered the United States. Where is she going," Ziva stared at him defiantly, weak on her feet. She wasn't even tied up anymore. She was swaying, trying to stay upright, when he socked her across the jaw, and she felt herself falling sideways into the wall.

"Even if I knew, why the hell would I tell you?" she asked hoarsely, wincing when he pulled her up by her hair.

"You know. She's been following a pattern. We are not idiots, David," he threw her back onto the ground, and she closed her eyes tightly, willing for everything to away, surprised when she heard the sound of scissors against her hair.

"Write this down…" she said softly, and he smiled, following her instructions, "EMETIB.."he did, and frowned at her.

"Now reverse it," she whispered, almost smiling at the look on his face. She managed not to groan when he kicked her hard in the ribs, leaving her alone in the room again, leaving her to fall back into her memory again.

* * *

Tony stared into his drink forlornly. Gibbs had gone to retrieve some evidence, and he was alone in his office again, not even aware of the late hour, the day, anything. He was exhausted, but all he could think about was the last time he'd seen Ziva.

That conversation they'd had in MTAC, or rather, shouting match, that had resulted in him storming from the room and almost losing his job.

"_Director," Leon's voice was almost surprised when he saw her, but he hid it well enough. It had been almost four years since she had disappeared, but what she was really interested in, was Tony. He was slightly to the left, his eyes boring into the screen, an almost icy look to them as he stared at them. At her, she was sure. _

_The talk went on mindlessly, about the acquisition of intelligence, both of their eyes glued on each other, neither one speaking, until Gibb's smacked him on the back of the head. She could not help the small smile that spread across her lips, and Tony's words cut across the silence, almost cutting her with their harshness. _

"_What the hell are you smiling at?" he said, and Gibbs shot him a look. It was clear they had forgotten her, just like the director had intended. There was a blonde there, her hand firmly clasped in Tony's, squeezing it, and McGee was looking at Tony, concerned. None of them were focused on her. She was an afterthought, which was what she had expected in the first place. They couldn't save her now, because they didn't want to. And they had no idea she needed saving. _

"_Dinozzo," Gibbs started, and Tony shook his head, staring in wonder at Ziva, who suddenly found her hands to be very interesting. Shed' never been one to back down from confrontation before. Apparently something had changed, and she wasn't the woman Tony knew. Although that had become obvious when she had taken off. She actually had a few wrinkles now. But besides that she was still the same physically as she was six years ago. _

"_I must have overestimated you," Tony told her, and her eyes shot up to meet his, completely devoid of emotion. If she could make him see something was wrong, maybe he could help. Eli seemed to notice what she was trying to do right away, as Tony stared at her in confusion. She started blinking, her blinks slow and calculated, but Tony didn't catch the hint. He was too angry. And then she became angry at him as well, for giving up on her so easily. Eli broke the silence. _

"_Surely we can keep this chat of ours on track, no?" he questioned, and Tony switched his gaze to the director. _

"_Of course," he told him, his tone snide," But I would prefer to do it without Officer David present," he added coldly, and she abruptly stopped her efforts to communicate with him, staring at the picture of him in astonishment. God, he was so blinded by his hatred that he couldn't even see what she was trying to do. And then she was so angry she couldn't stop the words that flew from her mouth. _

"_We don't always get what we want, Agent Dinozzo," she said softly, her eyes on him, and the blonde, who was staring at him strangely. He had not told her about them, whoever she was, because she was incredibly confused, "You should not waste your time with thoughts of something that could never-"she saw the shock and anger register on his face. _

"_I was just wondering what had turned you into a country betraying traitorous bitch, but I'm starting to think you were one all along," her mouth dropped open in surprise, tears prickling at the back of her eyelids as much as she wanted to dismiss them. _

"_Dinozzo!" Gibbs said sternly, and he got up, ripping his hand away from the blonde and walking towards the door. Gibbs followed him, showing no regard to Ziva and Eli on the screen, as well as a few other operatives. _

"_Um, Director, I think we should probably cut this short," McGee said finally," I apologize for Agent Dinozzo's behavior," he added, motioning to cut the connection, not even looking at Ziva. _

"_Ziva, you are dismissed," Eli said, a strange look in his eyes, and she got up obediently, fighting the urge to turn and kill this man who she couldn't believe she was the daughter of, that had caused her so much pain, seemingly intentionally. She barely made it into the hallway before she collapsed into tears, silent sobs that sent her body heaving with barely suppressed emotions. Something she had to keep in check if she wanted to keep up appearances. _

"_You need to calm down," Gibbs all but yelled at him, pushing him into the elevator, where Tony was rapidly trying to control his temper. He punched the wall of the elevator. _

"_That's not….there's something off about Ziva," Tony said softly, his eyes coming up to rest on Gibbs, who stared at him incredulously. _

"_Oh, sure. Let me just go run that by Vance and he can schedule a raid to get her out of there," Gibbs said sarcastically, as Tony's hands gripped the handles of the elevator so hard he felt the metal cutting into his hands,"She left. She wasn't forced. Stop trying to hold onto her." _

"_You don't know what you're talking about," Tony said softly, rubbing a hand over his eyes, finally calming down, his face red with anger still. _

"_Well maybe you could tell me, Dinozzo. Maybe then it would make more sense," Gibbs ventured, and Tony made a face. _

"_I can't. I'm taking the rest of the day off," he said, as the elevator reached the main floor. When he walked out, Chloe was waiting for him, her eyes sympathetic. She had no idea what was going on. A routine meeting had turned into a shouting match between a woman Chloe didn't know, and Tony, and his hand had found hers, squeezing it so tightly that he could have broken it. _

"_Tony?" she asked cautiously, and he shook his head. _

"_Not now," he told her softly, and her eyes narrowed. _

"_You're not going home to drink another bottle of scotch!" she burst out, and Tony spun around to stare at her. _

"_Why the hell do you care?" he questioned, and her cheeks reddened. _

"_You're my friend, Tony! Of course I care about you," she said back, and his eyes hardened. _

"_Maybe you should keep your distance. Because the ones that get too close always end up dead," he said softly, his emotions getting the best of him, leaving them all staring after him as he grabbed his keys off his desk and left. How was he supposed to know that she'd go missing that weekend, along with her father, that Mossad would be taken over and eventually she'd be reported dead? _

And now he knew why. It all made sense. He'd been staring at the birth certificate for what seemed like hours, analyzing the date, the location, everything about it. Gibbs was in his office as well, a bottle opened between them as he worked on leads, trying to figure out where Sophie had gone next. His memory was stuck on the way she was acting. It had been strange, especially at the start of the meeting, she'd been blinking far too much, which usually meant lying, but…her eyes. She'd looked down and to the left the entire time she was yelling at him, hadn't she? He tried to remember, but he couldn't .

He needed the tape. He got up, walking to his computer, and did a search, finding it in the archives quickly. His eyes scanned the entire exchange, and he was so invested in what she was saying and then what she was blinking, that he didn't notice that her hands were following it.

"Dinozzo? You don't have to torture yourself like-"

"I think she's trying to blink in Morse code," Tony realized, and Gibbs' eyes narrowed, "Look at her face," he added,"Look at her eyes…."

"She's blinking 'SOS',"Gibbs realized softly and Tonys hands tightened on the remote.

"I as good as killed her," he realized, as the door opened,"Damnit," he threw the remote down on the ground, and sank onto the couch, his head in his hands.

"You can't beat yourself up over this! We had no way of knowing,"

"But I knew something was wrong! I should have told all of you what was really going on!" Tony said from between his hands,"Maybe then she'd be here…."he trailed off, the emotion viable in his voice.

"Abs?" Tony's head shot up, staring at Abby in the doorway. She looked angry, but as soon as she caught Tony's expression her face softened.

"I was going to ask why you didn't make it to dinner, but…"she trailed off, and he shook his head.

"I'm sorry. I lost track of time," he said, glancing over at the screen, where it was frozen on her face. The anguish in it was clearly visible. He should have noticed. He didn't even realize he was crying until Abby sat down next to him.

"Tony, you need to sleep-"she started softly,"You're going to go crazy…"he shook his head.

"Can't," he responded, his eyes fixed on her face,"I can't sleep….I need to-"the computer beeped, and Gibbs eyes widened.

"She just entered the country," he said, and Tony's eyes narrowed.

"Where?" he asked, and Gibbs clicked on the alert, reading over it.

"New York City, about ten minutes ago…Port Authority has a screen capture matching her appearance…Dinozzo…do you want me to…"Tony nodded, tossing him his wallet.

"Get a ticket to New York City…the soonest one you can," he said blearily, running a hand through his hair.

"Who are you looking for?" Abby questioned, and Gibbs shot her a look that clearly told her to shut her mouth.

"Abs, just go home. If I need you to help I'll let you know," Tony said, and she crossed her arms.

"You need to come home. Just come home and sleep and then you'll be much better at whatever you need to get done in the morning," Abby said softly, and Gibbs got up.

"I have thirty minutes to get to the airport," he said, and Tony got up.

"I'll take you on my way home," he said, and Abby sighed.

"You promise you're coming home?" she asked, and he nodded, his eyes straying back to the screen capture.

"Yeah," he breathed softly, grabbing his keys as the three of them left the office.

What were they not telling her? Abby could tell it was something important. There was serious tension in the elevator on the way down to the parking garage, and when they got there, Gibbs and Tony left Abby without a word, talking in hushed tones as they got to the car.

"We can't put out a Bolo. Too obvious…too many agencies want to talk to her about Paris already," Tony said quietly, getting in the car and starting it, pulling out and speeding out of the parking garage as they made their way towards the airport,"Just use your connections and see where she went. If she was on her way here, you should be able to tell by security footage at the Port Authority. She would have bought a train ticket," Gibbs nodded.

"You need to keep your composure. McGee can handle the team. They can't know what's going on…"Gibbs started, and Tony sighed.

"Just find her. Please. I can't just go out into the field anymore. Especially with SecNav breathing down my neck. He's probably wondering why I even left the office tonight. I have to be back at 0600…"Tony said, and Gibbs frowned.

"You need a day off, Dinozzo," Tony let out a short laugh.

"I'll sleep when I'm dead, Gibbs," he said softly, watching him get out of the car, his mind foggy with what had been revealed in the last twelve hours. Finding Sophie was the first step. Then hopefully everything else would fall into place. He had no idea how to be a dad. But he could sure as hell try.

_So, what did you think??? I thought that was an appropriate mix of flashbacks and plot advances. Lol. Not sure if you can blink morse code…but I did some research, and it could be kind of possible. Especially if you were only using three letters. Ha. _

_Please review! Especially to those of you that have story alerts on my story but never review it. Im flattered you like it enough to story alert it…or even favorite it. But I'd love to know why you like it.- Jena_


	12. Part Six

Catch me if you Can

Part Six- Of Sophie

Jena Rink

Standard Disclaimers apply. Italics indicate either a dream or hallucination or flashback, depending on the situation. This is the longest post I've made so far. Ps- NCIS tonight was so good! It kind of inspired me actually. :)

"_**Certain is it that there is no kind of affection so purely angelic as of a **__**father**__** to a **__**daughter**__**. In love to our wives there is desire; to our sons, ambition; but to our daughters there is something which there are no words to express.**__**"-Joseph Addison**_

_**This post is dedicated to my dad. He would have been 74 this Thursday. He passed away December 23, 2008 from Colon Cancer. Love you and Miss you daddy. **_

It was late, or early, depending on how you looked at it, and the building in front of her looked almost forlorn, black in the semi darkness of the city. She stared up at it in trepidation, and then looked back at the people she didn't deserve to have as friends. They had done so much for her, and yet she didn't' want them to leave. She was terrified as to what came next, although her face remained stoic.

"This is where we leave you, okay?" Sydney said softly, and Sophie managed to nod, fighting back the tears which seemed to be coming to the surface again. She swallowed thickly, choosing instead to read the sign next to them, her eyes scanning the letters before she stared at Sydney in confusion.

"At the New York Public Library?" Sophie asked, and Sydney nodded, glancing around her before taking a step towards Sophie.

"Remember what your mother used to play for you, Sophie. I think she'd like it if you had the sheet music," Sydney whispered in her ear, before giving her a long hug. Sophie clung to her almost desperately. She was sure she would never see them again when Mike died. But now she was almost certain of it.

"When things are safe, you can contact us. We're going back on the Concord to London tonight. We should be in France by Friday," Peter said, and Sophie glanced around her at the dark city streets. It was almost two in the morning. There was no way she'd be able to get into the library until it opened at 7. What was she supposed to do until then. Her brain loved the idea of making a plan, because it allowed a distraction from the sadness she was currently experiencing.

"It will be okay," Sydney said softly, her eyes meeting Sophie's in the darkness again, before Peter and Sydney turned, walking away from her, leaving her alone on the New York City streets, feeling indescribably small against the tall buildings and loud noises, despite the hour of the night. The city was suffocating, but at the same time exciting. On the cab ride to their destination, she mused silently that she'd never seen so many lights and colors in her life, trying to distract herself from the upcoming solo portion of her mission.

She watched them walk off, her hand clutching her backpack tightly. It was all she'd taken with her. The money she needed, and her mother's things she'd gotten over the years, stuffed into the Jansport backpack until it was completely full. Now the question was, what had Sydney meant? If she was right, Sydney was talking about sheet music. The music Ziva had played for her as a child, her favorite song by Jerome Rose…she couldn't remember the name of it, but was sure she could find it online.

She found an internet café down the street, and paid the fee, getting herself a cup of coffee and sitting in the corner with the laptop they had given her, staring at the search results on Google, plugging in the headphones and finding the right title. Liebstraum Number 3 in A-Flat Major. Memories assaulted her.

Her mother had been an amazing piano player. But this was Sophie's favorite. Always, the way her keys flew across the keyboard, her concentration evident. She had wanted lessons, and taken some, but then she had had to leave. Mike didn't have pianos. She'd go to the churches in the small town they lived in to listen to the small concerts at holidays, reveling at the sound of the organ, and trying to remember the days at her home in Tel Aviv, watching her mother playing on the large piano they had in their apartment.

Her mind flew back to yearly ball that Mossad threw, her memories filled with her dancing around in a long blue modest dress, her hair done in curls, while her mother laughed at her, some of the light missing from her eyes. When she was little things were all about keeping up appearances. She had a nanny, and when Ziva wasn't working she spent all her time with Sophie, teaching her all kinds of things, how to read and write, how to sing, taking her to dance lessons, cooking for her.

Sophie hadn't realized it then, but it seemed like Ziva had been trying to cram a lifetime of memories into six years. It seemed they were always busy. Her mother seemed best when she was busy. Because when things were slower, at night before bed, or early in the morning before she left for work and Sophie was supposed to be sleeping, she'd catch that look in her eyes. Almost anguished.

Sophie, at the time, had just seen it as sad, and tried to make her mother happy by being almost perfect. She did everything that was requested of her. But it didn't make her mother happy. She was almost sad when she looked at her, which made Sophie feel like it was her fault that her mother was always so upset.

"Why are you sad?" She'd asked finally one Sunday morning when she was five,"Is it because of me?" Ziva's head had snapped up from where she was staring at something in her lap, a book, and she had closed it abruptly, turning to stare at Sophie, whose eyes were already filled with tears. Ziva was almost fierce in her response, so much that Sophie had never questioned her about it again.

"It is not you. I promise you. You are the one thing that makes me the happiest in life. You must never forget that," Ziva said quietly, pulling Sophie onto her lap.

"You get sad when you read to me," Sophie breathed, her head pillowed against her mothers chest as she stroked her hair.

"I would like you to see Washington one day, Sophie," she whispered softly,"There is so much there for you. You won't understand it now, but you will someday. Would you like me to play the piano for you?" she questioned, and Sophie's eyes lit up. She jumped off of Ziva, and followed her to the piano, where Ziva started to play leisurely, Sophie sitting next to her on the bench that had seemed so large at the time, her mothers hands running over the keys as if all she did was play the piano, Sophie's small feet swinging over the edge as she listened to the music.

She never noticed the tears in her mother's eyes. Like she was remembering something. Sophie continued to think as she searched the sheet music hours later in the New York Public Library, finally finding the faded score. She quickly made a photocopy of it, and left the library, staring at the address that had been scribbled in the bottom corner in black ink, in unfamiliar handwriting. Along a safety deposit box number, and another address and bank name.

She found herself at the small bank in New York City hours later, her patience getting the best of her. She'd taken a strange route, hopping on the Subway, hoping it would confuse someone if they were trying to follow her, and spending almost 30 dollars crisscrossing the city before arriving at her destination. She had to be careful.

"Can I help you?" the man was older, and English, and when Sophie pressed the sheet music into his hand, his eyes narrowed, scanning the note at the bottom.

"I will get the bank manager, Miss," he trailed off, walking towards an office at the back. She waited nervously, and then he waved her towards the closed door.

"He will see you now," he said shortly, and she walked inside, not sure what to expect.

"Miss Dinozzo, have a seat please," she frowned, staring at him in confusion,"Your mother prepared some documents for you to sign upon your death…she had your emancipation papers processed when you reached the age of fifteen, and I have a passport and necessary documents waiting for you," she ran a hand through her hair nervously. What did he mean, Dinozzo? Her last name was David.

"Dinozzo?" she questioned softly, and he frowned.

"I believe your mother wanted you to read this when you arrived. I will go and retrieve your safety deposit box…as well as the account information she had set up for you," the man said, "My name is Matthew," he added, shaking her hand as she stared at the envelope, confused. She was almost scared to open it. Her name was scrawled across the front in her mothers familiar handwriting. She opened it slowly, her hand moving along the back crease, and pulled out a thick sheet of paper, staring to read.

_My Dear Sophia,_

_If you are reading this, then I am gone, something I was sure would happen as you were growing up. I never wanted you to find out any of this in this way. Your father is not aware that you exist, both for his safety and yours, and if you have reached this point, it is the time to inform him. Michael and I set up this account for you when you were very young, in the event that you should end up following the set of instructions I'd given you, in the event that you had no one left. _

_I never wanted this life for you. When I found out I was pregnant, all I wanted to do was tell your father, spend the rest of my life with him, and become an American citizen. I accomplished one of these. Your father is an American as well. Because of this, you have full citizenship. Michael held onto your documents until you were thirteen, and then we entrusted them to the bank. You have a passport, a bank account, and a residence in Washington DC, as well as a storage locker filled with my belongings from my time spent there. _

_You were always smart. I could tell you everything about my time in Washington, but you have probably figured out the vast majority of it yourself, or from the books I read to you each night. Your father will not understand this at first. He may be angry. I need you to trust him. If he had known you were alive, let alone that you existed, he would have been a wonderful father. It was too dangerous._

_You have to believe that I wanted the best for you. I always, wanted the best. Matthew will provide you with a debit card and a substantial amount of cash that I have left you in the safety deposit box, as well as your birth certificate. Please be careful. If you have gotten this far, you know what is against us. Whoever I considered an enemy is now surely after you, and I do not know how large of a list that is._

_There is a list of names in the safety deposit box as well. They will help you. They knew me quite well while I was in America, before I left. They may be confused as well. As of right now, they have no idea why I left, and I have had no opportunity to contact them but one. You must be careful. You cannot be seen by anyone that could have an agenda against you. You are strong, like I was, and like your father._

_Please believe that I never wanted this to happen. I fell in love with your father long before you were born. We were partners, always arguing. He was stubborn, sarcastic, and everything your grandfather would have never let me marry, let alone fall in love with. Because of our work, it took many years for us to admit our feelings, and once we did, our time together was very short. I tried to leave him clues to your existence. He was so angry with me after I left, that I doubt he searched for any answers. Our last communications were tense, angry. Please try not to give him a heart attack. He is a wonderful man, despite his attitude at times. I loved him. It was why I was so sad, Sophie._

_You were the most wonderful thing I could ask for, a reminder of what we shared that I could always have with me. And you will be that to him, once his anger fades. Be patient with him. Matthew will arrange you a train ticket under an alias name, and when you get to Washington, it should be easy to find him. His full name is on your birth certificate, minus a few spelling changes that I found necessary for his and your safety. I love you. I can imagine that you are beautiful, witty, smart, and very strong. I wish I was there to see you grow up, but I know you will be alright. _

_-Ziva _

As tears streamed down her face, she couldn't remember every being more conflicted as to the way she felt about her mother. Now she had her answers. She was about to get more. The name of her father, the names of her friends. Her friends were the characters in the books. She was Lisa. Tommy…must have been her father, whatever his real name was. Her father had no idea that she was even real, and that made her even more nervous. What if he refused to believe her? What if she couldn't get help? She sniffled as Matthew walked back into the room, all business, and handed her the box, along with a small key.

"There is a car waiting outside. It will take you to the train station where you will board a train to Washington. Everything is going according to plan," he said, and she glanced up at him, wiping the stray tears from her face. She had to be strong.

This wasn't the plan. It had never been the plan. Her mother had stated quite plainly that she wanted nothing more than to stay in Washington with her father. Sophie knew she had been forced to leave, that she had figured out early on. But now she knew everything. All the questions she'd wanted answered for years were sitting on less than two pages of paper in front of her.

"Thank you," she managed, holding the box in her hands and following him to a side door, which he opened for her. She took a deep breath, and opened the door to the black sedan, sitting down nervously, seeing the tickets next to her on the seat, and reading over them. She would be in Washington in six hours time. She would wait until the train to examine the rest of the documents in front of her, because she was still getting used to the fact that she had a father. That she could possibly still have a family if things ever settled down.

And then she understood. This had never been her mother's plan initially, but the plan had evolved into keeping Sophie safe, keeping Sophie from harm, and eventually giving Sophie the chance to have what her mother never could. Sobs shook her body softly as she leant against the warm leather, holding the box tightly in her lap as the driver navigated the traffic, taking her to Grand Central Station.

* * *

Tony walked into the house tiredly, throwing his keys on the counter, and seeing Abby sitting at the kitchen table, a knowing look on he face. He couldn't deal with her right now. This was all too much. Gibbs was in New York, trying to find his daughter, and he was still in shock that he had one, that Ziva had been pregnant when she had left. He felt numb, but still had to say something.

"I can't sleep if you decide to interrogate me, Abby," he said quietly, his voice strained, and she sighed. He looked like death. Clearly, something horrible had happened today, and it was strange that he wasn't open about it. They'd always been open about everything with each other, especially after Ziva had left. She'd never known that they were together, just how close they were.

"You're keeping something from us. I think that this thing would Ziva would have taught you to do otherwise," she said, not thing about what she was saying.

"This 'Thing' with Ziva?" Tony questioned, his voice raising slightly, and she flinched. It was obviously more than just a thing to him. He seemed stung almost, like he'd just found out his entire life had been a lie. She wished he would tell her what was wrong, guilt pooling in her stomach from not thinking about the way she was wording things.

"I'm sorry, its just hard to understand!" she said finaly, and he shook his head, glancing down at the table. When he looked back up, she was surprised to see tears in his eyes.

"I was in love with her, Abby. I was in love with her, and when she left, I should have known something was wrong!" he said, his voice shaking slightly, "I killed her. She asked for help, and I didn't give it!" Abby squinted. What did he mean? He'd spent the last almost 20 years hating Ziva's memory. Unless that was what changed. She hadn't wanted to leave? Abby felt something she couldn't' describe shooting through her veins. Why had they all ignored it? She managed to ask her question through her confusion.

"What do you mean she asked for help?" she asked softly, her eyes burning from the lack of sleep and a sudden need to cry. Ziva had been one of her best friends. And she'd jumped on the NCIS bandwagon, letting every one think that Ziva had been a traitor after all. How could she have done that?

"She sent us an 'SOS', we were just too angry to see it. I was too angry to see it. She was blinking Morse code at me, and I didn't even..I just stormed out, while she was asking for help! She taught me how to tell when people lied, and she was lying to me, and I didn't even see-"his voice broke, thick with emotion, and Abby stared at him in shock.

"Tony, it'd been almost six years-" she tried to rationalize, and he slammed his hand down on the table. She jumped slightly. It was clear to her the conversation was over. He'd said too much.

"I need to be back at work in an hour. This job is going to kill me," he muttered, and she sighed, trying to find a change of subject to suit the situation. It was almost impossible. "Will and Jessie missed you tonight," she ventured, and he shook his head.

"How the hell am I going to do this? I can't even keep up a relationship with your kids-" he let slip, and she frowned, staring at his face. He still looked like he'd seen a ghost, that look had been present on his face from the moment she'd marched into NCIS earlier, intent on chewing him out for missing dinner.

"What do you mean?" she asked him softly, and he shook his head as his cell phone went off. He stared at it in annoyance. It still wasn't Gibbs. He wasn't even in New York City yet. It hadn't even been an hour. But he was still on edge.

"I wish I had one of those Time Turner things from Harry Potter so I could sleep. But I have a meeting with SecNav in an hour and I have to brief my assistant," he told her, and she sighed, knowing he was movie referencing to distract her from the serious conversation they had just shared.

"There's pizza in the fridge. At least eat something?" she asked him, and he nodded, taking the piece from her, their eyes meeting in the semi darkness. She wanted answers. He couldn't give them. It would be like getting his hopes up too much only to have them crushed again.

"What's Gibbs doing in New York City, Tony?" she asked finally, and he settled for not giving an answer at all.

"You wouldn't believe me if I told you…"he said, taking a small bite of the pizza and closing his eyes, leaning back in the chair.

"Try me. This week has certainly been an eye opener…"she said back, and he frowned. They'd all learned things. He just wasn't ready to share the fact that Sophie was his daughter yet. It was something that was his. And only his. At least for now, because he still couldn't wrap his mind around the fact.

"When I come to terms with what I've found out this week, you'll be the first to know," he promised her, finishing off the slice,"I need to go shower and change. If the phone rings and its Gibbs, would you come and get me?" she nodded, watching him walking up the stairs towards his loft apartment, a frown on her face.

If she'd found out a lot this week, then what had Tony found that he wasn't telling her about? She didn't realize she was crying until she decided she aught to get some sleep. She'd been staring at the picture of them, on a shelf in the living room, for what seemed like hours before she made her way upstairs.

Tim didn't question her when she got into bed and he felt tears on her face. He just kissed her softly on the cheek, and held her as she continued to cry softly. They would figure it out in the morning, but he had a sinking suspicion that it had something to do with Tony. He rubbed Abby's back softly, and she finally quieted, glancing over her shoulder at him, her eyes red.

"I love you,"she said in a small voice, and he kissed her softly.

"I love you too," he said, pulling back to let her settle against the side of his body, her head resting on his chest as she finally fell asleep. Tim's eyes closed again moments later, pulling her closer against them.

* * *

Gibbs had been trailing the sedan for hours, and when it finally pulled into the drop off at Grand Central, he was glad to stretch his legs, watching the girl decide which train to get on. He bought a ticket, followed her, and sat down two rows behind her, watching the way her shoulders tensed in the reflection of the window. She looked exhausted, bags under her large brown eyes, which were rimmed with red. She'd been crying.

He'd save the confrontation for when the train arrived in Washington. She wasn't going anywhere for now, and he was exhausted. It was late, and all he wanted to do was take a nap, but he didn't want to risk losing her. Against his will, his eyes slid shut, and he relaxed against the padded seats of the train as it rolled down towards Washington. A little sleep wouldn't hurt him. He wasn't like Dinozzo.

When he opened his eyes, she was sitting across from him, her eyes boring into his.

"Would you mind telling me why you've been tailing me since I left the library?" she asked him, and he shook his head. Her senses were impeccable. She was truly her mother's daughter. Her eyes were identical to Ziva's, staring at him inquisitively, and yet she didn't have her gun out. She had good instincts.

He didn't get a chance to answer her, because the train slid to a stop, the power going out. Her eyes widened, staring at him in shock, and then at the front of the compartment, which had been thrown into blackness. She no longer trusted him. He could feel it.

"What kind of trick is Hasad playing with me now?" she asked him in the dark, "What does he want from me now? He's already taken everything!" she said harshly, the train compartment deserted.

"He is not Hasad's," the other voice startled her, and she glanced at Gibbs in the dark, whose eyes were boring into hers. He was far too calm for the situation. It freaked her out more than it should. She could fake calm as good as her mother, but she was still petrified. What if she never met this man, Tony? His photo was in the box, black and white, his arms wrapped around her mother, the smile on her face bigger than Sophie had ever seen it while she was still alive. She was still coming to grips with the fact that her father was most likely still alive, and now this?

"Who are you?" she questioned to the faceless voice, as she heard two locks click, effectively shutting them in the compartment. There was screaming in the other compartments, and she realized that it had been six hours. They were in Washington, actually in the train station or close to it, but no one could leave the train, and it was stopped.

"I am not Hasad's either. I am more interested in the hit that was put out on you for ten million dollars," the man responded, and she recoiled visibily in the dark. So it had chased her to America, her past had. The other man's voice surprised her. Was he trying to help her? She wasn't sure, but she was shaking.

"Its twenty million if she is alive, so why not take her alive?" the other man interjected, and Sophie started at him in confusion, seeing his murky figure in the darkness.

"She is loud, and makes a scene. It is much more worth my while to bring her to him dead," Sophie's heart dropped into her stomach, and she glanced at the man across from her in alarm. Her gun was in her backpack. The emotions involved in what she had discovered today had made her lazy. Did he have a gun? Would he help her? Would she die before she even got the chance to have a family again. She bit back a sob, staring blindly towards the front of the compartment. This wasn't fair. She was only 17 years old. She couldn't die, not yet.

"If you come with me quietly, I will not harm either of you," the faceless man said, and the man next to her laughed, although the laughter had a harsh tone to it.

"You think I'm going to let you take her?" he questioned, and Sophie was once again confused. Was this man on her side or not? Did he want to protect her, or did he want to take her for himself? Then she remembered something her mother had said. Trust your gut. He did not seem like he was there to hurt her. All the aggression in the small compartment had been exuded by the faceless voice.

"You're not interested in the hit money, Jethero. Its not your style," the other man said, and she frowned. They knew each other. They obviously didn't like each other. Perhaps that was a good sign?

"You killed my boss, Omar. Old grudges die hard. You think I'd listen to anything you have to say?" the man's voice was so calm that it set Sophie on edge. She had been inching towards her bag in the dark. It was open. Five seconds and she could shoot him. She was sure of it. Her hands trembled as she reached for the gun, and then she felt a white hot pain tear through her shoulder. She fought to keep her voice even.

"You missed," she said, even as the sweet and metallic smell of her own blood filled her nostrils. She raised the gun and fired six times, even as she felt another shot enter her stomach and heard the man across from her being hit. Her breaths felt labored. Maybe she'd been hit more than twice? She couldn't tell. She couldn't move.

She could hear the other man gasping for breath, though.

"I don't know how many of you I am going to have to kill before this is over, but I intend to keep doing it!" she told the man, whose breaths were coming out slower and slower. She collapsed back onto the seat, crying out softly at the numbing pain that was spreading through her shoulder. And she heard the other man's voice, the one her heart had told her to trust, whispering softly.

"Your mother would be proud of you," the man wheezed, and Sophie fought back tears as her own blood soaked her shirt, her own breaths coming slower and slower. The power flickered back on, and when the train docked, she was powerless to move, do anything. She felt numb as her energy diminished rapidly. She fought to stay awake, but the idea of slipping away from the burning and numbing pain became too much for her to ignore.

"Police!" she heard the door being kicked open, and her eyes slid shut slowly as she listened to the labored breaths of the man across from her. She hadn't even gotten his name. At least all her belongings were in the backpack, which she had managed to grab with her left hand seconds before losing consciousness, her eyes sliding shut as she slid off the seat, hitting the floor with a thud, still bleeding slowly from her wounds.

* * *

Jeanne Lewis was having a bad night. The kind of night where the Surgical schedule was empty, so you knew you'd have lost of catastrophes. So far they'd had a broken leg, three car accidents, and a drunk driver with alcohol poisoning. She was tired, her head ached, and when someone else appeared at the doors, she closed her eyes tightly, opening them and deciding to concentrate. It was early, and her shift was almost over, finally.

"We have a multiple coming in. Three victims with gunshot wounds," She sighed, running a hand through her hair, and got ready to receive the victims, standing by the automatic doors. She wasn't prepared for what she saw seconds later.

"Male, 56 years old…two gunshot wounds to the lower abdomen," her eyes widened as she saw his face. Well, today was about to get more interesting than usual.

"He's a federal agent," she told the other doctors," I need to call it in. You can handle the others?" one of the nurses nodded, leaving Jeanne to run back towards the reception desk, running through her Rolodex and dialing the first number she could find.

"NCIS, Special Agent Matthews, can I help-" Jeanne cut her off, her tone short.

"I have one of your Agents here, I'm a Doctor at Columbia Medical Center in Georgetown," she said quickly, and waited for a response," Agent Gibbs…"

"Oh my God…what happened?" the girl had asked, and Jeanne shook her head.

"He's been shot. Could you get someone down here please?" she asked.

"Sure. I'll get someone there as soon as possible, Dr…."

"Lewis. I work in the ER. Thank you," she hung up, watching the last victim come in.

"Female, looks to be of Middle Eastern descent, maybe Spanish. Late teens, Four gunshot wounds to the lower abdomen, one in the shoulder," Jeanne read off the chart, wiping the tiredness off her face as they pushed the young girl through the Emergency Room and towards surgery.

"Did she come in with Special Agent Gibbs?" she asked the nurse next to her, and the girl nodded as Jeanne studied the girls face. She could have been the twin of that girl standing next to Tony the last time she'd seen him. She must be connected to Gibbs, to Tony, to NCIS.

"She came in with a back pack…should we search it for identification?" Jeanne shook her head.

"No. I called his Agency. I wouldn't tamper with evidence," she told her, taking the backpack, which was slightly stained with blood, and putting in in a personal effects bag,"She's going to need surgery. Book an OR….I'll examine Agent Gibbs, okay?" The nurse nodded, confused, and walked off down the hallway as Jean found Gibb's room. He was still unconscious. He'd been lucky. She read his chart, noting that the bullets had grazed his liver but not ruined it, and the other had missed all his internal organs. They'd put him in a drug induced coma. So he wouldn't have any answers anytime soon. She put the backpack down next to his bed, and turned towards the door, seeing a small blonde there, her eyes wide, staring at Gibbs.

"I'm Dr. Lewis," she shook the woman's hand, and Chloe sighed.

"I'm Special Agent Chloe Matthews….NCIS,"she whispered, staring around Jeanne at Gibbs body,"He's always getting himself into harmful situations….he's retiring in a month,"she said, and Jeanne frowned.

"He was shot twice. He was lucky…the bullets were easy to remove and they didn't do any lasting damage. He'll just need to rest," she assured Chloe," But I wanted to call your agency before the other Feds showed up. It can get kind of nasty when they are fighting over a case, and I've started papers to transfer him to Bestheada…" Chloe nodded. This doctor knew too much. How did she even know it was Gibbs? Chloe stared at her in confusion, and couldn't think of why she'd heard the woman's name before.

"How did you know he was an Agent?" she asked her, and Jeanne frowned. Agent Matthews was perceptive.

"I've dealt with NCIS before. Special Agent Gibbs was assigned to a case I was involved in," she said vaguely," You're welcome to say with him, Agent Matthews. If you need anything just let me know," she left Chloe alone with Gibbs, and walked towards surgery, wondering how the girl was doing.

There were already agents waiting outside. One of them she recognized.

"Please give him some space. He wont be awake for at least twenty-four hours, and even then, NCIS has already been called," she said to the men standing outside the hospital room.

"This is a matter of national security. He was shot by a known terrorist!" one of them said.

"And he's an NCIS agent, so that's all I'm letting in his room for now," Jeanne shot back, crossing her arms.

"How do you even know how agency jurisdiction-" one of the men started, and caught a look at her face.

"Benoit," he realized, and she shot him a look.

"Does that really matter?" she asked him,"The point is, there is an agent guarding his room already. I don't need a circus in ICU," she said, her eyes narrowed, and walked away from the men. It was like they were having a pissing contest at who got to question Gibbs when he woke up.

Was this what Tony was like when he was on a case? Pushy, annoying? Her eyes flew to the backpack next to Gibbs bed. For some reason, she didn't want anyone to see it. The Agent she had talked to would no doubt take it to NCIS. Where she figured it belonged.

She turned the corner to walk back towards the room, and then thought better of it, walking back towards Agent Gibbs room again.

* * *

"You need to relax. We're taking you into surgery," the voice was calm, but Sophie was anything but. Her stomach felt like it had been torn in two, and her shoulder was burning harshly. Tears sprung to her eyelids before she could stop them. She wasn't dead yet. But she could barely breathe. Her lungs felt weighed down, and she struggled to collect a breath, coughing harshly as her throat constricted tightly.

"Honey, what's your name? Do you have someone we can call for you?" she took a labored breath, feeling like her entire body was trembling.

"D-nozzo," she managed softly, her eyes sliding shut again.

_Sophie was dreaming. She was sure of it. She was in a room she didn't recognize, the walls a disgusting orange color, and desks everywhere. She could see the Washington skyline in the distance, and it was raining. She felt strange, like she was being pulled in two directions, but there was no pain. Not really anything else. She felt detached from reality. She remembered the darkness in the train compartment, and the man she'd eventually sat next to, the one that had been following her. _

_The other man had shot someone he cared about, but it seemed like he was only after Sophie. And then she realized something. Her shoulder felt numb. Her stomach was like jelly, but not like when she was around Mark. She wondered what Mark was doing for a moment, if he was okay. He'd probably tell her he'd seen out of body experiences in a move once, and that it didn't look fun. She smiled softly, looking at the ring on her right finger. And saw there was blood on it. Her eyes widened, and she looked down at her stomach, seeing the blood making her shirt stick to her, and the way her shoulder felt completely stiff and wet as well. What in the world was going on? _

"_You okay, kid?" her head shot up to stare at Mike, who was sitting casually in the corner desk, his feet propped up. Her eyes widened in surprise momentarily, and she walked towards him without thinking, leaning down to hug him against her. _

"_Mike," she breathed softly, and pulled back, noticing the blood she'd gotten on his shirt. It was like the last time she had seen him, lying there dying on the deck of their house in Mexico. Her face paled momentarily, and he noticed. _

"_It's okay. I'm not going anywhere, at least not now," he promised her, and she nodded quickly, staring around the room in confusion. _

"_This is the squadroom at NCIS," he informed her, and she frowned again. What was going on? She felt movement behind them, and jumped, turning to stare at the woman behind her. She recognized her instantly. _

"_You're Jenny Shepphard," she realized softly, and the woman smiled. _

"_You look like your mother…just like her," Jenny said quietly, taking in her appearance, scrutinizing her, and staring at her gunshots wounds, her eyes narrowed. _

"_You were her friend," Sophie said softly, and Jenny nodded, sitting on the edge of one of the desks in the room,"What am I doing here?" she added quietly, still feeling the pull in her chest area, trying to lead her in a certain direction as opposed to another. _

"_You don't belong here, kid. Not yet," Mike said softly, and Jenny grabbed her hand tightly. _

"_You've got too much to do still…"Jenny said softly. _

"_Can I see my mother? Why isn't my mother here?" Sophie voiced softly, and another voice surprised her. _

"_I think you know the answer to that," her grandfather's voice whispered in her ear, as everything started to become more real. The pain was coming back. She fought back a moan, her eyes opening in shock, and stared up at a blurry face above her. _

"_We've got a pulse!" she tried to suck in a breath, and realized something was doing it for her, her eyes widening. She tried to move, and cried out, one of the nurses holding her wrists down. What was going on? _

"_You need to sedate her!" she felt something warm and liquidy enter her veins, and then everything was black again. Was she still dreaming? She wasn't sure. But it was comfortable. She felt numb again. _

"_Relax," she recognized the smell at once. Vanilla and honeysuckle. She looked beautiful, and then she realized they were in her old bedroom, sitting on her bed, the lights off. _

"_Mom?" she breathed quietly, reaching her hand out to touch the side of her face softly. She looked older, haggard even. She was still beautiful. Everything she had remembered about he was the same. Tears were pooling in her eyes before she could stop them. She was aware she was dreaming, but her mother was there. In her dream. She hadn't dreamed about her mother in this way…ever. Maybe it was the drugs. She hoped they gave her more drugs, so that she could keep staring at her, taking her in. _

"_You can't stay asleep forever, Sophia," her mother said into her hair, as Sophie clung to her tightly, not wanting to let go of her, ever. _

"_What if I want to. What if it's too much?" she whispered softly, and Ziva pulled back, giving her a stern look. _

"_You are strong. And your father deserves to see you. He will make it alright. He will do what I cannot," She said quietly, and Sophie frowned. _

"_Jenny said I couldn't see you," she said, frowning, and Ziva glanced out the window. _

"_Jenny is someplace else," Ziva breathed, not meeting her eyes. _

"_Then where are you?" Sophie questioned softly, holding her at arms length. The image started to dissolve, and she moaned softly, trying to hold onto the fragments of the dream, but feeling helpless. _

"Oh, good, you're awake. You had the staff so worried, a young girl like you will so many bullet wounds," the nurse said in a southern accent, her eyes caring. Sophie realized she had a mask on her face, and her eyes widened. The nurse noticed.

"I'll come have someone put an oxygen tube in for you, dear, don't worry about a think…just relax. You're safe now. No one's going to hurt you," Sophie watched her leave, wondering if the nurse knew what safe really meant. Because Sophie was never safe. Where was she?

She glanced out the window, and her eyes widened. She'd made it to Washington. The dream she'd just had was hazy in her mind, fading quickly, and she tried to sit up, groaning. What had it meant? She'd seen mike…Jenny? And her mother. What had her mother said? Sophie couldn't remember. The smell of vanilla lingered in her nostrils, and she found herself fighting back tears. She had what felt like stitches in her shoulder, and in her stomach, and it pulled uncomfortably as she tried to sit up.

"Try not to move," the girls voice surprised her, and she glanced over at the blonde that had just entered the room. She looked professional, she had a badge around her neck, and she was wearing a suit,"You don't want to pull those stitches…"she added, her eyes caring, as Sophie fought the urge to pull out her IV and spring from the bed. She didn't like laying down and doing nothing. She stared at her defiantly, not saying a word.

"Its okay. I'm not going to pressure you to talk. And the man you were with…my boss…he's going to be okay," Sophie stared at her, and Chloe closed the door behind her. So she understood discretion. But Sophie still wasn't going to talk. She needed to find her father first. She didn't need the police's help to do that. What the woman said next, surprised her.

"You're…Sophie?" she asked, and Sophie's eyes narrowed. Had she looked in the backpack? Did she still have the backpack? Getting shot was getting in the way of things. She remained silent, staring at Chloe. Maybe silence was her only defense now. She remembered something they said to you while you were being arrested in the United States, anything you say can be used against you in a court of law, and kept her mouth shut.

"The gun you used to hit Hasad in Paris…it was the one of an old NCIS operative. The boy you were staying with is in the Navy. It was under our jurisdiction," Chloe said softly,"He told us your name was Sophie…"she tilted her head to the side. The girl seemed nice enough, but something about Sophie's appearance was setting her off slightly. She was hiding something. But it was still best to admit her name.

"It is," Sophie said softly, scrutinizing her, surprised when the woman handed her a small glass of water. She sipped on it slowly.

"I want to help. I was the only one on duty when Gibbs and you were brought in," Chloe said quietly, "I haven't called anyone else yet…"

"Please don't call anyone else," Sophie requested quietly," Do you have the backpack I came in with? I'd like to see it," Chloe stared at her strangely, and took the bag out. Sophie took it slowly, opening it and finding the key, gingerly turning the key in the lock and opening the box. Chloe's eyes widened at the money that spilled out, along with a couple credit cards, a passport, and what looked like a folder of important documents.

Sophie held onto the passport, flipping open the page and staring at her picture, and the information beneath it. It listed an address in Washington, and the names on it for her parents, her eyes narrowing as she stared at the paper. Who was Tony Dinozzo? She knew from the birth certificate she'd read on the train that he was her father. But who? In his picture he looked happy, joyous even. But then again, so had her mother. He was the man from the picture in Monet's gardens. But where was he? She had to find out.

The girl was a mystery to Chloe. From the moment she'd walked into the room, she'd been captivated with the way she had carried herself, even laying in a hospital bed. Every move seemed rehearsed and carefully thought out. She'd have to wait until Gibbs woke up to find out. He was doing better, the doctors had assured her. But where was Tony? Shouldn't he be here for all of this? He'd been on edge all week, and now Gibbs was shot?

* * *

McGee was tired. When he and Abby walked into the office, everyone else had been there for hours. Tony was closed up in a meeting, and Sara was pacing the squad room, taking into her phone. They'd gotten the kids settled with their usual activites for the day, dropping them off at summer school together, and Abby had refrained even mentioning her breakdown. They both stared at Sara in confusion. She looked flustered.

"I don't know what you should do, Chloe, I-" she glanced up, her eyes on McGee,"I'll call you back," she added distractedly, closing her phone, her eyes hesitantly meeting Tim's.

"Sara, what's wrong?" he ventured, and she launched into her explanation without thinking much of the consequences. She shouldn't have had to deal with all of this in one morning. She'd been the first one in, and her brother's phone had been ringing off the hook, and she'd listen to Chloe talk to her for the last thirty minutes.

"Tony's in a meeting with SecNav, and Gibbs got shot…and Chloe's at the hospital, and-" he cut Sara off, his eyes wide.

"Gibbs got what?" he said softly, and he failed to notice Abby's jaw drop.

"The FBI took the crime scene because it was with a known terrorist on their most wanted list….it was a train…and Gibbs was on it. Coming from New York…"Sara explained softly.

"I need to see Tony," Abby said quietly, and Sara frowned, staring at her. Abby looked determined, as if a light bulb had just gone off in her head.

"Michelle wouldn't let me go into MTAC…he's off limits until the meeting is over, which means we need to take care of this ourselves," Sara said quietly, glancing around her to make sure no one was listening.

"Is Gibbs okay?" McGee asked, and Sara nodded, still staring at Abby, whose brain was working overtime. She'd come to the US. It was the only explanation for what was going on. She took off for the stairs without anyone noticing.

"He's okay. He's in a drug induced coma right now, but he should be coming out of it soon," she said softly," Tim-"she added, motioning to Abby. He didn't notice.

"So if he's asleep, why is Chloe at the hospital?" McGee asked, and Sara frowned.

* * *

Tony was exhausted. His phone was in his office, he hadn't heard from Gibbs, and he was stuck in yet another meeting, his exhaustion getting the best of him. They were right, he needed to sleep. He was so on edge, and living purely on caffeine at the moment, his hands practically shaking as they talked over a joint operation with the North Korean government. Naturally, it had taken the better part of yesterday, and today to sort this out. And they were still in negotiations.

"Um, gentlemen, we're going to have to cut this short," someone had entered the room, and Tony frowned. They'd been getting somewhere with North Korea, and now it had to be cut short? It didn't make any sense. Plus, short was a bit of an understatement, considering they'd been in MTAC for what seemed like days.

"Dunham, what's up?" he asked him seriously, and he scratched the back of his neck. Dunham only did that when something bad had happened. Now Tony was interested. He finished what ws left of his coffee, anxious to stretch his legs, and followed him towards the door.

"There was a shooting on a train coming into Washinton, Director. Gibbs, a known terrorist, Omar Bashin, and….the girl from the murder in Paris, we believe. We think Gibbs was travelling with her. They were in the same compartment, and-"Tony almost dropped his cup of coffee, his face paling. She'd been shot? He had to get there. Now.

"What hospital?" he asked softly, his eyes boring into Duhnam's.

"Michelle, you have to hold my calls for the rest of the day. I don't care how angry anyone gets about this,"he told her, walking down the stairs quickly, putting on his jacket and heading towards the elevators, not saying a word to Tim and Sara, who were standing in the squad room still. He had to get there. He couldn't remember ever having driven so quickly. His heart was beating so fast he thought it was in his head almost. And then he ran into someone.

"Christ, I'm sorry. I'm the Director of NCIS…you have one of my…Jeanne?"

* * *

He looked good. It was hard for Jeanne to admit that to herself, but he was still as handsome as back then, although his hair had a hint of grey in it. He was staring at her in confusion. He looked distracted, almost in a daze.

"The girl that came in with Gibbs," he said, his eyes slightly panicked, and she frowned.

"Room 404, Tony. There's an Agent with her already-" he was already down the hallway towards the elevators. It was clearly important to him, whatever it was. She watched him race off, her hands on her hips.

The ride seemed to take forever, and when he showed up at the doorway, he saw Chloe sitting with the girl, who had a box in her hands, staring down at the contents. She could have passed for Ziva, and immediately, memories assaulted him.

He wasn't sure if he could eve go in. And then he felt her eyes on him. The deep, dark, almost bottomless depths that Ziva had been given as well. He glanced up slowly, fighting to catch his breath from the earlier running to get into the hospital. His lungs weren't working as well these days, not after the Plauge and so many years of abuse.

"Tony…"Chloe started, and he stared at her for a moment, realizing she had come outside,"She's not talking,"

Time had seemed to stop. She was alive. She was awake. The only thing he'd been thinking the entire drive down was that he'd never get to meet his own daughter, that he'd be burying her before she even knew he cared. The anger had melted away a long time ago, and was replaced with something else.

"Gibbs is okay?" she nodded quickly, and he let out a sigh of relief, his eyes not straying from Sophie's face. She'd started crying. Did she know? He frowned.

"Can you go check on him?" he asked her quietly, and she glanced back at Sophie, instantly realizing something deeper was going on.

"Okay,"she said quietly, squeezing his hand before she left him alone, staring at he through the glass door. He opened it cautiously, closing it behind him with a soft click.

"Do you know who I am?" she ventured quietly, and he nodded, his eyes softening when she sniffled, looking rather annoyed at herself, although he could still see the emotion present on her face. She seemed appalled at her own emotion. It was crazy how much she acted like Ziva. She was more flustered, purely for the fact that she had let go and had started crying. He didn't even think about what he had to do.

She stiffened slightly when she felt his arms wrap around hers gently, smoothing her hair back as she attempted to regain her composure. It wasn't working. He smelled comforting, and his was clinging to her as much as she was to him, sitting on the edge of her bed, stroking her hair. She didn't want to lose control again. It had happened far too often lately, and usually resulted in danger. But she couldn't help it. She immediately felt safe in his arms, and it scared her to the point where she was fighting back hysterical tears, trying to keep her body from shaking. And he could tell.

"You don't have to put on a face here. You're safe," he breathed into her hair, and she lost it completely, sobbing into his chest, clinging to the lapels of his jacket as her body shook, not even caring about the pain in her shoulder and stomach as she did so. He was so gentle, holding her tightly yet cautiously, his head fitting perfectly on top of hers. He was tall like her. It caused her to cry harder.

It was something he couldn't describe. He was hugging the last thing he had left of them. She was breathing, and real, and she was a part of him. Any doubts he had about being a father were washed away as he held her, sitting partially on the bed as she sobbed against him, clinging to him like a lifeline. Her body shook, and he fought to keep it still so that she wasn't in pain. She just cried harder. He didn't think he could stop her crying, and he didn't want to. Because she'd obviously needed it.

She pulled away several minutes later, and stared up at him, her eyes wide, her body slightly shaky still. Her thoughts bubbled up, and before she could stop herself she was speaking to him, her voice hoarse from the crying, her head feeling slightly fuzzy.

"I thought I was going to die before I got here, before I-"he shook his head, staring down at her. She looked so fragile, like she needed reassurance that he wanted her around, that he wanted to protect her.

"I've had an agent following you since New York," he told her and she stared at him in confusion," I found out who you were two days ago," he added, and she relaxed slightly. So she was right. He hadn't known. That much was obvious in his face. He was staring at her like she was a ghost.

"She did not think you would know. I was not sure if you would believe me," Sophie started quietly, suddenly feeling very strange, like a young child that had done something wrong, as she played with the edge of her blankets.

"I knew as soon as I looked at you," Tony assured her, and she fought back a yawn. She didn't want to stop looking at him. She had a father. And he was alive, and he cared. She hoped it wasn't a dream, and if it was she didn't want it to end.

"I'm not going anywhere, Sophie," he promised her, and she managed to nod, her eyelids drooping even as she didn't want them too. She grabbed his hand tightly, and he winced. She made a funny face, trying to figure out why he was wincing, and he smiled weakly at her.

"Your grip is like your mom's. It's okay. I promise I'm not leaving," he said softly, and she relaxed back into the pillows finally, letting her hand slide out of his as she closed her eyes, her face relaxing. Tony couldn't stop staring at her either; memorizing her face, her hair, everything about her he could see. She would be happy if she knew that Sophie was okay. He had to convince himself of that, otherwise it might drive him crazy. Her making it to Washington meant she had wanted them to meet, at least in some small way.

He was still coming to grips with the fact that he never should have been angry with Ziva. She had done everything she could to protect the now almost grown teenager laying on the bed in front of him. And he could see why. He could see both of them in her. His hair color, her eyes, her cheekbones, his height, her lips…she was the perfect representation of what they had shared. She was perfect, looking so small and childlike in the bed, no indication that she had been shot at just hours before.

Her forehead creased in her sleep, and Tony smoothed it out with his thumb, touching the soft skin of her forehead gently. She instantly relaxed. In that moment, he knew he'd do anything and everything he could to protect her, to give her the life she deserved. His father had never been a fan of signs of affection. His mother, while she was still alive, had been the exact opposite. He wasn't going to become his dad. He couldn't. She deserved better than that. And he wanted to give it to her.

His gaze fell to the backpack on the floor next to her, the open box next to it awakening his curiosity. He pulled it onto his lap, settling into the chair beside her bed, and thumbed through the contents slowly, his eyes widening as he took in the documents. She'd done well. Her passport was real, as was her birth certificate. There was a deed to a residence in Washington, as well as a few numbered bank accounts which proved that Ziva had tried her hardest to give Sophie the chance to live out the life she couldn't have lived otherwise. His eyes strayed to the backpack again, and he began to go through the contents of it as Sophie slept, stopping every so often to stare at her face.

Movie tickets from their first real date, the dress she had worn in Paris, the diamond earrings he had gotten her for their two month anniversary, the mementos went on, until he reached the stack of Deep Six books, his brow furrowed in confusion. He opened them, and understood why. She'd highlighted the chapters that dealt with locations where she'd had missions before. Ziva had sculpted a hard to follow and analyze plan for Sophie to follow, which eventually too her to Washington. To him.

She had loved him. She had actually loved him. The thought was almost disturbing. He'd been so used to hating her for so long, as opposed to cherishing the memories he had, that he'd dispelled as fake the moment she saw him on the MTAC screen. But she had actually loved him. The memories were real. The star of David necklace was sitting on the side table, and he picked it up, staring at the tarnished silver, running his finger over it slowly.

Exhaustion was taking him over as he stared at her, trying to keep his eyes open. He'd been awake for what seemed like days, and as he repacked the backpack, he fought the urge to stay awake. His head found a spare spot on the side of her bed, and his hand found hers as he finally allowed his eyes close, his hand grasping her small one tightly in his. He'd become a father in a matter of minutes. And it didn't bother him in the slightest. He felt more whole than he could ever remember.

**So? Longer than usual. I didn't' want to split this up. It truly was a joy to write. It made me think a lot. Please let me know what you thought. And thank you for the reviews and story and author alerts. I continue to be amazed that almost 6,000 people have read this story so far. Its amazing to me. **

**PS, this is also dedicated to my favorite two reviewers, you know who you are, one of you has the flu, and the other one walked in the rain to Walgreens to get you meds! Hope this helps you feel better, and sorry I gave you the cyber flu! **

**I'll post more when I can. **

**-Jena**


	13. Part Seventhe start of it at least

**Catch me if you Can**

**Part Seven 1 of 4**

**Jena Rink**

**So sorry about the wait for this. Im truly amazed at your reviews. This is another…big part of the story, I guess. Part Seven is very important in the scheme of things. I didn't really have time to beta, so sorry for that. Haha. **

**But please enjoy! And review! I love your reviews they make my day! **

**-Jena**

When she woke up, she was disoriented. And then she realized why. It was very late, and she was in the hospital. A hand was clasping hers tightly, and when she heard soft snoring, she started to become more aware. A slightly grey head of hear was on the edge of her bed, and then she stared to remember. It was her father. She stared down at him in amazement, and up at the door, where her doctor was staring at them, a strange look on her face. She glanced down at Tony's head, who was still heavy, his hand clasping hers almost desperately, still, even after all those hours of sleeping. God. It must have been eleven at night already. She'd slept like a log. She touched her father's hair softly, running her finger through it, and Jeanne noticed, standing in the doorway. Who was this girl? She was too young to date Tony. She cleared her throat, and Sophie's eyes snapped up to meet hers, analyzing the look on her face. Jeanne felt uncomfortable, but there was something in the girl's eyes that had made her stop. The way she was staring at Tony was unnerving.

"How are you feeling, Ms…"she trailed off, and Sophie noticed the way she was staring at her father's figure, snoring softly as he slept. She must have known him before this. Her eyes were not the usually stoic one's of a doctor. Her eyes were taking in his appearance as if he was a loved one. So they'd been in a relationship. She could only guess by manipulating the situation to her own advantage. And Tony was asleep, so he couldn't tell her.

"Dinozzo," she responded softly, "My name is Sophia Dinozzo," she said, tasting the name on the edge of her tongue. It felt familiar enough, as if she'd been meant to say it her entire life. That was enough confirmation for her.

"He's your father?" the doctor managed, her face paling. So they had been together. Sophie had been right.

"Yes, he is. Or at least that is what is on my birth certificate," Sophie said, Tony's soft snores still evident, "I think he was quite exhausted when he got here," she added quietly,"He was out like a lamp," she added, and Jeanne made a face.

"Like a light," she corrected her, and Sophie stared at her tiredly.

"Yes, that. I did not grow up here. I am constantly getting American sayings incorrectly," she responded, and Jeanne fought back a laugh. The girl was interesting. Despite the fact that Tony had a daughter, which she was still in shock about, the girl seemed nice. Jeanne was way past blaming him for any of this. He'd just been doing his job. It had taken her a long time to get to this point.

"So you're visiting?" Jeanne questioned, taking a seat on the other side of the bed. She had just finished her shift, and was intent on going home, but the look on Sophie's face had stopped her on her way out the door. She was staring at Tony in wonder.

"Something like that," Sophie said evasively," Of course, the best laid plans always end up with me in a hospital bed," she added softly, and a smile crept across Jeanne's face.

"Well I started the transfer papers for you to go to the naval hospital. I figured you had something to do with Tony when I saw him in here," Jeanne said finally, stuffing her hands in her pockets.

"You know him?" Sophie asked, feigning innocence.

"I did, once. We were-"

"Another story for another day," Tony mumbled sleepily, cutting Jeanne off, and sitting up, his eyes boring into Jeanne's. She flinched slightly. He was giving her that look she could never understand again, the one he gave her during the more intense moments in their relationship, if it could even be called that.

"I was just telling your daughter that I started transfer pages for her to go to the naval hospital," she told him, and he ignored her, his gaze moving away from Jeanne. That's right. He had a daughter now. He'd recognized Jeanne's voice and been confused. And now he remembered all of it. His daughter.

"How are you feeling?" he asked Sophie softly, his eyes straying to her face, his voice heavy from sleep. His eyes were awake though, searching hers hungrily again. She had her mother's eyes.

"Like I got shot…but better slightly," she responded, as Jeanne observed their interaction with interest.

"I'm not going to ask you how you know what it's like to be shot," Tony said quietly, his hand squeezing hers gently. She glanced down for a moment, her other hand clenched.

"Another story for another day," she repeated, staring at him, her head cocked to the side. He smiled at her.

"I didn't know you had a daughter," Jeanne interjected softly, standing up, and he continued to stare at Sophie, almost captivated by her. Jeanne decided it was strange.

"Life is full of surprises," he said, still entranced by her face.

"You know, you don't have to google at me," Sophie finally said, and Tony laughed softly.

"Ogle?" he said, raising an eyebrow, and she rolled her eyes.

"Yes that's what I meant," she responded, and Jeanne felt sorely out of place.

"Dr. Lewis..thank you for starting the papers…"Sophie said finally, her eyes coming up to rest on Jeanne's.

"The transfer should go through by tomorrow…I get back on tomorrow at 8, and I'll come and check on you," she said, and Sophie nodded quickly.

"Thanks, Jeanne," Tony added, his gaze resting on her for a moment. She hoped they could talk later. But clearly, now wasn't the time. She left them alone in the room, closing the door behind her.

"You snore, you know," Sophie told him, breaking the silence, and Tony shook his head, still staring at her in wonder.

"I'm sorry I can't stop looking at you," He said suddenly, and she tried not to laugh.

"I think it might be understandable," she ventured, glancing out the window at the skyline. So this was Washington.

"She talked about it a lot…Washington," she said softly, and a strange look came over his face. She didn't notice,"I-"

His cell phone made a noise, and she fought back the urge to jump as he answered it.

"Yes?" he asked, an edge to his voice," Lo, I'm quite aware of that, thanks. How's Gibbs? Better?" he paused for a moment, smiling reassuringly at her. She thought he'd had to leave, and the idea scared her to death. It was strange how quickly her emotions had just changed. Apparently she was already growing attached. She still wasn't sure that was the best idea. Sure he was here now, but what if he left?

"Just hold them off as long as you can. I don't want to have to explain this right now…okay?" he said uncomfortably, letting go of her hand and standing up, glancing towards the door,"No I will, I'll go in in the morning…for now I'd rather spend time here." He hung up the phone, and turned back towards her.

"Are you hungry?" he asked her, and she wrinkled her nose. She hoped he wasn't talking about hospital food.

"What were you thinking?" she asked, and he grinned.

"You like pizza?" her smile was answer enough.

* * *

Chloe was sick of doing damage control. She felt like she was being bombarded by questioning eyes. Gibbs was being transferred to the naval hospital, along with the girl, who it seemed no one by Agent Dunham knew about. Apparently that was the way Tony wanted it, at least now. And he wasn't saying anything to her either. Their phone conversation had been vague at best.

Abby's eyes were the worst. She'd been jumpy since Tony had taken off yesterday, and not just because of the caffeine. And McGee had been studying her in interest as they researched the terrorist. This morning wasn't any different. She sat at her desk, trying to pretend to be busy. Tony had told her to be silent about everything.

"I need to talk to you," Abby said, crossing her arms, and Chloe opened her mouth to respond. Where the hell was Tony? He'd promised he'd be in! The elevator binged, and Tony stepped out, still in the same clothes he'd been wearing days before, his hair a mess, a beard starting to grow on his face, and shot Chloe a look. Agent Dunham met him as he left the elevator, both of them talking in hushed tones. Abby followed Chloe's gaze, and her eyes widened in alarm. Tony did look like crap, but he raised his eyebrows at Chloe, and she understood. She got up, following him and Agent Dunham towards the stairs, completely ignoring Abby, who had gone from confused to pissed off in a matter of seconds.

What gave Chloe the right to know everything? She felt sort of childish, but she'd hardly slept the past couple of days, worried sick, and here she was, following Tony up to his office. He'd completely ignored Abby on purpose. She moved to follow them, and Tim caught her arm.

"We've got a case, Abby," McGee said, and she frowned.

"What the hell is going on with Tony?" she asked him, watching Dunham, Chloe, and Tony disappear into his office, her arms still crossed over her chest.

"Its not my job to know that. But I'll work on it, okay?" McGee said, and she frowned.

"Sure, ok…what do I have?" she asked, still aggravated.

"We did a raid on Mossad in Tel Aviv last week….there was a bombing, and we were the first to respond," he told her, and she nodded, following him towards the elevator, even though her mind was somewhere else.

"And?" she questioned as the doors closed, taking them down to the lower level.

"Palmer has a full human skeleton….whoever it was was incinerated…and then…a pinky finger that doesn't seem to fit….And you have a bunch of hair…" she made a face. Hair? Boring. It had better be something good.

"Hair?" she questioned, and he sighed.

"Its coated in blood. Should be fun," he told her, and she fought back a smile. That did sound exciting. Maybe it would distract her.

"Its like Christmas. Thank you!" she said, kissing him on the cheek. Tim just shook his head. Now he just had to figure out what Chloe was hiding. She'd be the easiest to break. And what had happened to Gibbs? Chloe assured McGee that Gibbs was just fine, just in a drug induced coma until he healed up. But he'd been at the office two days ago, and now he was in the hospital?

* * *

He needed to be sure. So here Tony was, with Dunham and Chloe in his office, the door locked. He handed Chloe a small plastic container with a cotton swab in it.

"I need you to check the validity of these…and I don't want anyone else to find out. Run the DNA against mine, and see if it matches," he told Chloe, and she nodded, finally understanding. He hated keeping secrets. But for now it was necessary. Hopefully everything would settle down once the investigation had finished.

"And the mother's DNA?" he shook his head quickly. That would be great, if Abby realized she'd done a DNA test on Ziva and Tony.

"That would raise too big of a flag if someone found out…so for now…let's just run mine, okay?" Chloe nodded, while Dunham stared on in interest. The girl looked just like Ziva…

"That girl is your daughter? Dinozzo, you didn't," he realized, and Tony shot him a look, telling him to shut up.

"So what if I did?" Tony said back," Unless her final joke on me was making me think I was the father of a crazy teeanged Israeli ninja, she's my daughter," he added under his breath, and Chloe understood.

"She's Ziva's?" she questioned, and Tony nodded finally. It was obvious she was Ziva's. Everything she did reminded him of Ziva, and he'd known her for less than a day.

"Oh she's Ziva's. I don't need a DNA test to tell me that much. She acts just like her…She's like a mini Ziva…idioms and all," Tony said, his eyes not staring at either of them. He was still slightly in shock. Chloe stared at him, noticed that although physically he looked like crap, there was already something different about him. He looked more complete than before. Maybe this was what he needed to stop being so bitter about the past.

"Um, Sir?" Michelle poked her head in the door, and he turned to stare at her, raising his eyebrow in question.

"Agent McGee would like to have a word with you," she added, and he squinted. He should tell Mcgee. It was important enough that he should know. And someone had to stay with Sophie in the meantime.

"Chloe…could you maybe go and stay with her?" he scratched the back of his neck,"Ask her what size she is? See what she likes? She didn't have any clothes with her…"he trailed off, clearly freaking out. What did teenaged girls need? He had no idea.

"Okay,"she breathed, turning towards the door once he'd handed her a wad of cash from his wallet.

"You might want to bring her a cheese pizza too," he added, and she paused at the door.

"I'll call you if anything changes," she told him.

"Thanks, Lo," he responded, as she stepped past her and walked down the stairs, bypassing McGee narrowly. He was giving her the Gibbs look. She wasn't going to crack. This was Tony's story to tell, and not her's. She walked past him quickly, and got in the elevator with any further incident.

"Dunham, can you watch over Mcgee's team for the day?" Tony added, as McGee walked into the room, staring at them in confusion. What was going on?

"Got it, boss," Dunham said, and Tony nodded, grabbing his keys, following Dunham towards the door.

"Tony?" McGee questioned, and Tony swallowed. It was now or never.

"I have to go home and take a shower. I'll tell you on the way, come on," he started down the stairs, McGee in tow, slightly confused. He managed to grab his things before following Tony towards the elevator. They didn't speak until they got in the car. Once they got in the car, McGee couldn't help the questions from flowing.

"What the hell is going on, Tony? You disappear to the hospital for almost two days, Gibbs gets gunned down on a train from New York City? What the hell was he doing in New York City?" McGee asked, and Tony squinted as they pulled out of the parking garage. He might as well just tell him bluntly.

"As it turns out, Ziva had a daughter. My daughter, I think. I'm having Chloe run the DNA…"Tony ventured quietly, waiting for McGee's reaction.

"Sophie?" he said, his eyes widening in realization,"How did you…"

"She put Dinardo on the birth certificate," Tony said quietly,"Gibbs figured it out a few days ago, so we flagged her photo. When it entered customs, we knew…"

"That's why he was in New York?" Tony nodded as they pulled out of the base.

"You know what happened next. She's the Jane Doe at the hospital with him. Although she's not really a Jane Doe…"he swallowed thickly before he said the rest, afraid to show too much emotion," Ziva…had everything set up so she'd end up here…she has a passport, a birth certificate, a bank account…its scary how much she thought it out…."he trailed off.

"How do you know it's not a trick?" Tony realized that they hadn't told him. Abby knew, but she was probably hiding what she had found out until she knew more.

"The last time we talked to Ziva…she was blinking Morse Code at us…Sos," Tony said softly, his hands gripping the steering wheel tightly,"I saw it on the video. I watched it a few days ago."

"So she wanted help," McGee realized, his brain flooded with memories. How could they have ever thought she was a traitor,"Jesus, Tony…"he addd quietly, and Tony shook his head. He didn't want to talk about how it made him feel, at least not now. That would prompt a whole 'nother round of therapy he knew he wasn't ready for.

"I'm just trying to focus on Sophie right now…I haven't wrapped my head around the fact that Ziva needed to be rescued…we as good as killed her…she disappeared that weekend…when I took off out of the office and drank my weight in scotch," Tony said softly, turning off the car, leaving at that. McGee just stared at him in wonder,"So I really don't want to focus on that part right now…she's what's important. At least for now. She's already lost one parent…and I'm not my dad, okay?" he paused at the look on Tim's face,"I'm going to take a shower…and then you're going to come to the hospital with me to see you and Gibbs…Dunham has the team under control," he made his way towards the stairs, not waiting for Tim.

McGee just stared after him in astonishment.

* * *

She didn't understand when the door banged open. She didn't understand much these days. The ground was vibrating, almost. She must be going crazy. That must be it. She must have finally lost it. He walked towards her, and she didn't even flinch until she felt the pain in her hand, crying out at she stared at it blurrily. Why the hell had he cut off her finger? He was screaming something, brandishing the knife, which she dimly realized had her blood on it. Maybe this was it? The ground shook again, and she stared at the fire behind the door, her eyes widening in shock. Was he going to kill her? Then she realized he was just going to injure her, and leave, and something snapped inside of her. He backed her into the corner, and she turned on the survival mode she didn't even know she possessed, crouching in the corner, her eyes trained on him in the semi darkness, the only light from the red and orange flames that licked at the walls behind him. He smiled manically at her, and when the tip of the knife hit her throat, she struck, standing up quickly and turning it around, plunging it into his throat, her eyes widening at her own strength. His blood coated her face as she pulled out the knife shakily, trying not to cough at the smoke and making her way shakily around him, forgetting the pain in her hand, basically everything else, as the need to survive took over, adrenaline coursing through her veins. She had bitten her lip so hard that it drew blood, but it was hard to notice as she she made her way towards the exit, pressing her finger against the biometrics, relieved when it gave and the exit opened. It was ironic, that was what had gotten her in this mess in the first place. She stumbled out into what used to be the greenhouse, coughing at the flames, and ran. She didn't even know where she was going. But seconds later, there was an explosion, and she was glad she had run.

She couldn't believe she was still standing. Her prison was gone, but panic still settled in her stomach. Where the hell was she supposed to go? Her lungs were constricting due to the smoke, the wind, and the debris. She wrapped a dirty sleeve around her finger, which was stinging, and ran onto the street, taking deep breaths of air once she had cleared the smoke. She threw up, and groaned softly, wiping the edge of her mouth. The implications of what she had done hadn't even stared to set in when she heard sirens.

**So? Bet you didn't expect that! Let me know what you thought! **


	14. Part Seven 2 of 4

_**Catch me if you can**_

_**Part Seven 2 of 4**_

_**Jena Rink**_

_**I don't own NCIS. **_

_**PLEASE READ THE AUTHORS NOTE. Thankies. **_

_**Well I had an interesting evening. My dog (who weighs forty pounds), ate 4 pounds of raw chicken breast…woo. I was going to post this earlier but things have just calmed down now, and im sitting down with a glass of wine and some fresh popped popcorn to type up this authors note and ask YOU guys, my lovely readers, a couple of questions…and promise to answer a few in return. **_

_**So I wrote the Tony/Ziva…interaction scene today. It's a ways off, and I wont go into details about what it is about, but it REALLY made me want to write another story based in this slightly off form of cannon I've created. You've seen me make vauge references to Tony and Ziva spending time in Paris, and I'd like to make a full blown story out of it as opposed to teasing you with flashbacks. Please let me know what you think about that. Its really important to me. And also, what do you think about Jeanne? And about me resurrecting someone…I promise its NOT Jenny, Ari, or Kate. But I had fun toying around with what character to "bring back from the dead"…and I feel like it enhances the story so I might use the idea. Its also really important to me to know what you felt about this chapter. Yes, I told you you'd be seeing Connor again, and you'll read about him below. But I had a hard time deciding how to portray Ziva. I did a lot of research on websites concerning the after effects of torture and what is done. I hope I'm doing it justice, because it's a horrible thing. **_

_**And the reason I had Ziva escape just when Tony found Sophie was because to be realistic, Ziva needed time to become relatively normal before she would even attempt to contact anyone from NCIS, let alone Tony and Sophie….**_

_**So, please do me a favor and let me know what you think. **_

_**And in return I'll give you a little bit of teaser. Ask me ANYTHING you want. And I promise to answer two of the questions asked, without giving too much away. **_

_**I really cherish the reader feedback for my story. My life is in a strange place right now, so it is wonderful to know that I have people that say they might go crazy if I don't update soon. Hahaha. Without further ado, here's the part, which is extremely..and pretty much ONLY…Ziva centric. Let it serve as an explanation as to whether or not she is really doing alright. **_

_**-jena**_

Someone had targeted her father's house. That much was obvious. Or at least the greenhouse. But how had they known? It was dark, and for that she was thankful. She imagined that she probably looked nothing like she had looked before this had taken place. Her pinky was finally ceasing to throb, but she was sure it would be infected. Why in the world had he cut off her finger? She'd been asleep. He'd been angry. She could remember that much. He'd been letting her heal again. It was one of his favorite games. He knew she was injured, and where, and once she was almost healed he'd come back in and hurt her again. But this time she hadn't given him the chance to. Her ribs had healed, and the only real pain she was feeling at the moment was from exhaustion, dehydration, and her finger. Everything felt fuzzy.

She heard a twig snap, and held the knife she'd pulled from his throat tightly. It was just a cat. She forced herself to try and relax. The wind stung her skin, the sounds of the city assaulted her ears and brain. It was brighter, almost. It felt like summer outside, dry and hotter than the rest of the year. But that could have been from the fire. She turned around to stare at it, the remnants of her father's green house through a small hole in the wall, which looked to have already been severely dilapidated, wilting in the flames. What in the hell was she supposed to do? Her hands were trembling. She didn't even know the state of affairs in Israel, she didn't have any money, and she was fighting off the urge to faint, throw up, or both. If someone found her, she'd be dead.

What had she left herself before this? Her mind was instead filled of what she had left for Sophie. She hoped she was safe. She knew they'd almost caught her, but she was sure if they had, Hasad would have been the first to tell her. She caught sight of the skyline of the city, and relaxed. It was not entirely different from what she had remembered. The harsh weather was not either. It was hot, even for the middle of the night. She had to focus. Where had she left it? She was so tired. Her eyelids were dropping, and she realized that adrenaline had been the only reason she had escaped. Her hair felt like it was pulling her down to the ground, and she made a split second decision, using the knife to cut it to her shoulders shakily, the blood covered hair dropping to the ground. She was still covered in his blood. It made her sick. She needed a shower.

The neighborhood looked entirely deserted. Run down. Things had changed. She needed to move quickly. Ten minutes later, she was standing inside of a deserted house, the windows were broken and it was obvious no one had lived there for years. But it was completely full of furniture, photos even. She sighed in relief, and make her way upstairs, trying to force her legs to move towards what looked like a bedroom. The bathroom was filthy, a thick layer of dust covering everything, and when she peeled off her clothes and the bandage, she winced. Things were obviously in a state of unrest, loud booms rocked the ground she stood on. She needed to move fast. She tested the water, glad it was working, and set it to cold. Better to shock herself into being awake. The spray hurt, and she fought back a wince as she searched for some sort of shampoo. She found soap instead, and didn't care, using it to wash her hair and body over and over again, obsessed with ridding herself of the mental and physical signs of his torment. Once her skin was almost raw, she forced herself to stop.

She used the time to think. Maybe she could find money here? Something to sell? She turned off the water, not caring that she was soaking wet, and found towels in the closet, shaking them to make sure there were no bugs. She dried as quick as it were possible, and found clothing in the closet. Her body was starting to ache again. She knew she had to keep moving. If they found her…she didn't want to think about what would happen. She forced her fingers through her hair, rifling through the dusty toiletries that were left and finding a hair tie, pulling it off her face gently. The mirror was too dusty to see anything, and when she removed the dust, she didn't recognize the person staring back at her. Her lip was swollen, and she was so thin. Her collarbone jutted out almost dangerously. She wouldn't cry. How would it help things? So instead she busied herself with finding something to wrap around her finger, to find clothing, and possibly money. She found all three. Something was bound to go wrong with all that had gone right today. She was cautious.

And hour later, she was dressed, in clothes slightly too big, and shoes slightly too small, a purse on her arm, and sunglasses at the ready. The sun should be coming up soon. The sun would hurt, she was sure. She had no idea what time it was, year, anything. But she knew she had to get out of Israel. That much was obvious. It was a small country. Her arms stung, and her legs felt like she hadn't used them in years, but she was on a mission. It was easier to think about it that way, like she was working. That made it easier. It deluded her into thinking that everything was the same, that she had somewhere to go after all of this was over. But the reality was much worse. The Americans would not consider her loyal, she was sure of that. Until she could regain their trust, she had to hide. And until she figured out the state of the world, and what had happened exactly after she had been captured, she would not know how to proceed, regardless of how badly she wanted to call NCIS, to get to Washington as fast as her legs would carry her, to find Sophie, to see Tony. His face in the photo had been haunting her thoughts and memories since she had seen it. He was part of the strand of thoughts that had kept her tied to reality, as much as she didn't want to be. She was grateful for it now.

The noises in front of her and lights surprised her. She had not realized there was a shelter so close by. She froze, somewhat panicked, staring at the man in a uniform that seemed vaguely familiar that was staring at her in shock. And there was the bad thing. Not that most would think that. She was sure that most of them were grateful for the help. It looked like the Peace Corps, and there was no way she could get past the camp without someone noticing. She was too weak to run any longer.

"Good God," he said, taking in her appearance, and she tensed, staring at the man, who was young. She fought the urge to stay upright. She'd been walking too long already. She needed water. She'd meant to make it farther, maybe barter her way out of the country. She didn't fail to notice that he was clearly an American. She could use the Americans to get out of the country, but then she had to disappear. That was something she had decided instantly upon seeing him. But she still flinched when he reached a hand out, stumbling slightly. She wanted to fight him when he insisted on carrying her. Men were so stubborn sometimes. But she let him, because him carrying her meant she didn't have to use her legs, which were starting to feel like she'd been sitting on them for the past twenty years. It was constant pins and needles. And then she passed out.

She was very angry with herself when she woke up hours later. The man from before was staring at her in interest.

"Water?" he asked, holding out the canteen later, as they sat in the back of a military transport, her mind flying back to her rescue from Somalia. This was not the same. It was not a rescue. As soon as they figured out who she was…she would be right back into interrogation. She wasn't sure if she could handle that. She didn't need to relieve it, especially not for a federal agency.

"Thank you, " she said through cracked lips, surprised at the sound of her own voice, taking the canteen and sipping at it slowly, afraid she would throw up.

"We're taking you to a hospital in Cairo….every one here's going there…its on an American base, you'll be fine…"he assured her, and she frowned. This was ridiculous.

"What is your name?" she questioned him, recognizing his uniform now. What was he doing on land? She looked confused.

"My name is Connor…I used my pass to help out the Peace Corp," he told her quietly," And how did you know I was in the Navy?" he added, and she shrugged, wincing slightly. She would have to watch her movements from now on.

"I have family in Cairo. I do not need to go to a hospital," she lied, and he shook his head.

"You're a mess…"

"Ziva is my name," she said softly, almost afraid that he would know who she was. That was a stupid thought. She was being paranoid. But being around all these people was freaking her out. It was like culture shock almost, being thrown back into the world where people existed in droves, as opposed to being in a cell, your only companions a man that tortured you and six of your closest hallucinated friends. She swallowed, and tried to take another sip of the water slowly.

"Well Ziva, you're pale. The doctor told me you have a Vitamin D deficiency. How long did they have you?" he asked, his eyes concerned, and she shook her head.

So it was obvious to them that she'd been in custody. Maybe that would help her later. But she still didn't trust them. Connor seemed to have the best intentions. But Connor was one man of many.

"Connor, you have been kind," she said quietly,"But I am telling you that it is in my best interest to leave before we get to Fort Jenkins," he frowned.

"How did you know that's where we are going?" he questioned, and she shook her head.

"That does not matter. I cannot erase what has happened to me in the past. I cannot trust the Americans, because they do not trust me…"

"We were holding you?" he asked, flabbergasted, and Ziva sighed, glancing down.

"No, you were not. But I left. I cannot go back," she whispered, her eyes urgent," I need to rest. I will give you all the money in my bag if you allow me to do that, and wake me up before we enter the camp. That way I can leave," she breathed, and he frowned.

"What happened to you that made you feel this way?" he questioned, and she closed the Canteen, her stomach churning slightly at the taste of cool water.

"Too many things," she mused softly, crossing her arms over her stomach and staring behind them.

"Okay, " he said finally, and she moved to grab the envelope of money she had found. But he stopped her.

"I think you need that more than I do, Ziva," he told her honestly, and she closed her eyes tightly, surprised that someone in this world still had kindness after what had been done to her. She couldn't help but ask him. She almost didn't want to know. But it was necessary.

"Can I ask you what year it is, Connor?" she said quietly, and he frowned.

"2027," he responded, confused, and barely noticed her eyes widen before she turned away, shell shocked. Eleven years. She'd been held captive for eleven years. It was a wonder she'd survived, let alone escaped,"Ziva, are you?" her shoulders shook gently. She didn't have the energy or the hydration necessary to cry. So she shook softly, leaning against the cloth wall of the truck, realizing she had an iv strapped to her arm. It was tpn. She relaxed slightly. It would help. The majority of the passengers were asleep, and she jumped as he handed her the canteen again.

"I just want to help," he said softly, and she sighed, her voice breaking the silence.

"Isn't that what all of us wanted once, Connor?" she responded softly, the sun sinking over the horizon as they finally left Israel. She could truly never go back there now. It was a wreck of what it once was. And then, she had an idea.

"Do you have a piece of paper and a pen?" she asked him quietly, and he frowned.

"Yeah…"he handed it to her, and she decided she might as well write everything down,"What are you-"

"When you get back to the base….you will need to pass this on to someone. It will help in Israel," she said quietly, scribbling down what she could remember, what she had held in for all those years, as much as Hasad tried to beat it out of her.

"What is it?" he questioned, and she shot him a look, finishing what she was writing and folding the paper.

"Give it to the Marines," she told him softly, and he nodded, staring at her in confusion. She was exhausted, and finally found the peace to sleep. She'd written it down. That was all she could do. And she knew he would read it, so if her words would twist it, he would know the actual ones.

Once she was out, Connor opened the piece of paper carefully, reading what it said, his eyes widening.

_I have been held captive and asked for certain information for a number of years. It is obvious to me that you will not trust me, but I am going to give this information to you in hopes that you will eventually…._

He kept reading, his eyes wide, the description of where to find a series of disks. She was obviously high in Mossad, because she knew the locations intricately.

_If I gave myself up to you, I am sure that you would not trust me. I know you already will not, based on the past. But I want to see Mossad go down just as much as you. Hopefully, when you find what you are looking for and my intel proves to be reliable, I can attempt to contact you again. _

_I do not hold the codes to get through the passwords on the disks, but I'm sure someone in Washington can do it for me. He taped everything that was done to me, the man that held me. He is dead, killed both by me, and a bombing that occurred yesterday in the early morning in Tel Aviv, at the old home of Eli David. _

_It will serve as proof, I suppose, that I never cracked and gave up any of your secrets. The system that was created is foolproof, and will not only hold the records of what was before. It will have everything since the government switched hands. _

_I need to recover. In a few months, I will contact you again. _

The sun had stung her eyes today. When she woke up, it was to Connor shaking her shoulder gently. He motioned to the back of the truck, and she nodded. Everyone else was asleep.

"Thank you," she said simply, and he nodded, handing her his canteen.

"I hope you find what you need, Ziva," he said, and she nodded finally.

"You cannot tell them my name," she told him, and he nodded, watching her roll out of the back of the truck. She was glad it was softer sand. The landing only hurt somewhat, and she felt refreshed from the water and TPN she had received.

She used the money to procure herself the documents she needed. And no one asked questions. It was only when she had a ticket to London, a complete false identity, another shower, and another change of clothes that she allowed herself to relax, sitting in an uncomfortable plastic chair, her eyes staring at the sandwich and bottled water in front of her. The date had almost caused her to cry. But she could not be obvious. It had been eleven years. Eleven years since she'd been in public. She was still wary of everyone around her. They were so loud. She didn't remember people being so loud.

She took a small bite of the sandwich, and chased it with a small sip of water. This would take baby steps. She had not been able to eat the first time she had been captured either, and this was on a much grander scale. It stayed down. She sighed in relief, getting up when her flight was called. She could do this. Once she was in London, and to the safe house, things would go into motion. And hopefully the note she had left them would help clear her name. She knew NCIS would get the note, that's why she'd been sure to leave her fingerprint on it. She wasn't thinking about anything else as the plane took off, just that she should get some rest. What was coming up next would be the most difficult.

_**Okay, I just popped a couple of sleeping pills, which I hardly ever take, and Im finally ready for bed. I was writing that scene last night, where Tony and Ziva finally see eachother, and I literally couldn't sleep until it was done to my satisfaction (at 7am, at which point I noticed it had been snowing for hours and Albuquerque was covered in snow…snazzy). Please, PLEASE let me know what you want to know or what you are confused about or if you like the story. I really and truly appreciate your reviews, story and author alerts and favorites, and the like. **_

_**See that little button in the middle of the screen, PRESS IT. Lol**_

_**-jena**_


	15. Part 7 3 and 4 of 4

_Catch me if you can_

_Part Seven 2 and 3 of 4 _

_Its finals month. I have family drama. I really, REALLY apologize for this taking so long. Hope you like the Eli/Ziva scene. I'm slightly worried that this will be hitting R territory eventually. But we'll cross that bridge when we come to it, eh folks? _

_Same Disclaimers apply as before. Please REVIEW this…like actually tell me what you thought. I really love reviews. And its finals week! So they would make my day. _

_Italics equals flashbacks or thoughts. Woot. _

_-Jena_

_When she woke up, there was a soft light filtering into the room, casting a yellow glow over her, and the other people she recognized, her father among them. His expression was solemn, staring at her. Everyone else, it seemed, was unconscious or dead. There was blood, everywhere. She remembered being dragged from the room, a bag being placed over her head. She wasn't hurt. And that almost scared her. She felt weak; she remembered the struggle, staring at Sophie as they pulled her from the room, Sophie's eyes wide and panicked. It was close to sunset. She was not sure what the sun was setting on. Why place her in a room full of dead bodies. But then there was movement. She tensed, and then realized who it was. The face was unmistakable. _

"_Ziva," his tone was soft, and she tried not to look at the faces on the bodies surrounding her. Her coworkers, as much as she didn't want to be back in Israel, had been a constant. And it looked as if they were all here. All dead. So it had happened. They had won. _

"_So it is done?" she asked quietly, glancing towards the window. Where were they? She could smell in the air it was still Tel A Viv. But where? _

"_It may as well be," her father responded evasively, and she glared at him. Why must he be ambiguous at a time like this? They had known of an impending attack for months, but not the source. And now, it seemed as if everything had collapsed. _

"_How could you let this happen? You knew! Everyone knew something was going to go wrong…"he got up, using the wall for support as he made his way over to her, sitting down next to her, his eyes almost locked on the bodies around them. Why was he letting the bodies affect him? He was a heartless bastard, as far as she was concerned. A waste of a parent. _

"_Where is Sophie?" he asked her finally, and she scoffed, staring down at her feet as opposed to meeting his eyes. _

"_As if that would matter to you, as if I would tell you if I had any idea where she is," Ziva said in a low voice, dangerously. _

"_I'm quite certain it is the reason we are still alive right now," he said back to her, and she grimaced. This didn't feel like being alive. Surrounded by dead bodies in a room that was almost thick with death, wondering if your only child had managed to make it away before it was too late. God, Tony may never know. Her heart constricted in her chest, and she gritted her teeth. She could not afford to be weak. Not now. _

"_I do not know. She may have not made it very far," Ziva said shortly, glancing towards the heavy metal door, fighting to keep the tremors out of her voice. Eli said nothing, and it unnerved her. Must he think of every sentence before he spoke it? Certainly the censor should be lifted at a time like this. And then he surprised her. _

"_I have failed you," he told her, and she frowned, looking over at him in confusion. He was in worse shape than her, an obvious stab wound on his shoulder, blood coating his white coat. But she could not find pity in herself for this man, despite what he had just said. _

"_I am sorry, which time were you referring to?" she said back bitingly, tears appearing in her eyes suddenly, as if she had no control any longer. She only wanted the end. Things had taken such a downward spiral over the past few years. They obviously had been unsuccessful in finding Sophie; otherwise she would be here in the room with them. And that was enough for Ziva, for now. Perhaps she'd make it to Mike's. Perhaps she would have a chance at a normal life, something being Ziva's daughter had denied her thus far. _

"_Ziva-"he started, and she shook her head, wincing slightly at the pain in the back of her neck. She'd clearly be jostled around on her way here. _

"_She will spend her life running, from something that was not even my fault, let alone hers. What was so wrong about me having a little happiness? I was the one that survived, and you treated me like a pawn in your own little game. And now I'm going to lose the game with you!" she said back heatedly, tears slipping down her face," It was always about pride to you, was it not? When Tali-"_

"_Do not speak of your sister," he responded and she fought back a choked laugh. _

"_And why not? You should have sent us away! You pushed Ari away, and I had to kill him to stop the process that you had started! You let me leave, then pulled me back! You spied on me, manipulated me, threatened me to get me back, and for what? To watch me die? You failed us all! Saying you failed me is quite the understatement!" Ziva spat. _

"_I do not know what is even possible at this point to fix the regrets I have about my family, Ziva," he told her, his voice eerily calm in the growing darkness of the room. _

_Family. What did that work even mean anymore? _

"_What, family? We were never close enough to become one!" she shot back, and he swallowed, staring over at the window. The sun was orange in color, lighting up the sky even as it darkened. _

"_They will at least kill me," he said finally, as a means of changing the subject. He'd always been so good at that while she was growing up. _

"_You think they will spare me as well? You know how this works! They will kill all of us, and they will chase Sophie down until they find her. And when they do, they will kill her! Regardless of the safeguards I had put in place," Ziva said back, clenching her teeth. She'd been planning for this, for years, calling in favors, setting up accounts in various aliases. She only hoped it was enough. But it was hard to be optimistic. _

"_So you had planned for this?" Ziva shot him a look. _

"_At least to get her out of this situation. She was all I had left. Considering I abandoned my actual family six years ago," she said finally," Sophie was the only reason I was still here. You know that. You knew I was here against my will." _

"_You know I am sorry," he said, and she stared at him in astonishment. _

"_Certainly it was better to tell me this when there was no hope of me changing things, no hope of us living?" she questioned quietly, staring at the doorway. She wished it would come, death. She'd never wanted to die so badly. At least the last time she'd been captured they had wanted to rescue her. This was the end. She could feel it. If they played their cards correctly it would be fast._

"_You know what I know, Ziva. I am sure Hasad is well aware, after killing and questioning everyone else, that one of us must know," he informed her quietly, and she closed her eyes tightly. _

"_You are saying this because you think I would tell him?" she asked incredulously, turning towards him," Despite my animosity towards you, I have none towards Israel…"_

"_I'm not afraid that you will crack, Ziva," he said softly, and she frowned. _

"_Then what-" the door banged open, and she tensed, waiting for a fight that never came. Because she was weaker than she realized. They lifted her up, whoever it was, and she struggled the best she could, staring at her father even as she felt the gun pressed to her back. The metal was welcoming. She wanted him to do it, Rip a bullet through her brain, her spinal cord…anything. Just so she wouldn't have to feel any longer. _

"_Tell us, or we kill her," the voice was Hasad's. She saw her father's face dimly in the twilight, and then she understood. _

"_I am not worth it!" she said harshly, before a hand was clasped over her mouth. She bit it, and the man howled in pain, dropping her to the ground. She attempted to get away, and they dragged her back, the man slamming his foot down on her shoulder. She screamed out in pain, and blinked the tears from her eyes quickly. _

"_Then that was my mistake then? Making you believe you were not enough?" Eli said, loud enough for her to hear, and she closed her eyes tightly, attempting to stand up a second later. _

"_This is not the time for a heart to heart," she hissed, still aware of Hasad behind her," Just let them kill me! I am ready to die!" the words felt strange coming from her lips again. She felt a metal-toed boot connect with her back, and surged forwards onto her stomach, biting back her lip to fight back the cry that wanted to escape her lips. _

"_You might as well kill us! We will not tell you anything!" she said finally, hoarsely, trying to roll over and sit up as another kick hit her in the ribs, well aimed. She grunted, feeling the crack of her rib as it broke. And he didn't stop. All she could see was her father's face, almost crumpled as Hasad and the other man continued to beat her. She gritted her teeth when they pulled her up by the hair. Her face was swollen. He had obviously broken her nose, and her cheekbone must have been after that, because it was throbbing. _

_She spat in Hasad's face, and he only smiled. _

"_She is feisty, perhaps worth keeping around…should the need arise," she felt bile in her throat, and tried to pull away again, her legs kicking with no avail. She could see him over Hasad's shoulder, an expression she hadn't seen since she was little on his face. If she got him angry enough, perhaps he would end it quickly. _

"_Perhaps I should give you a moment to talk then? Consider your options?" she grunted when they threw her down on the ground, landing in a crumpled heap. Her head came up slowly to stare at her father. _

"_You are not going to say anything to them…and I will not either," she reminded him softly; fully aware of what she was committing herself to. This might take forever. She would not crack. _

"_Ziva-"she cut him off, attempting to get back to the wall, taking labored breaths. It was darker now, the sky almost purple. She didn't know it would be the last sunset she'd see for many years, but still stared at it hungrily for a moment. And then reality hit. _

"_You are not going to compromise this country! They will kill us regardless of what we say. Just think of something else. Do not watch!" she said fiercely,"You taught me to be strong, yes? What needs to be done must be done…"she trailed off, staring at him expectantly, although inside she felt like breaking down. _

"_She will hopefully grow up to be like you, Ziva," he said, and her face crumpled. _

"_Aba,"she said quietly, as his fingers touched her face gently. _

"_I am sorry," he repeated, and she shook her head. _

"_Is that what it is like when you get to be your age, constant regrets? Then am I glad I will be dying now," she said, trying to rationalize what she was about to do. With her dead, the trail was over. They would not be able to find her, if she had escaped. _

"_And Sophia?" she swallowed. The look on her face when they'd dragged her away. Somehow she knew she had to have made it. Life would be too cruel otherwise. _

"_She will hopefully be what you wish her to be, and eventually make her way to where she needs to be," Ziva whispered through cracked lips. _

"_I am sorry about what I made you do," he ventured, and she closed her eyes tightly. Tony. This was so, incredibly unfair. Had he gotten her message? It had most likely been days. It was not specific enough, even if he had. _

"_Tony is stronger than I am…he would never admit that to himself, but he will be alright. Eventually," she said quietly," It will be better that he hated me…if I am to die," _

_They didn't get to say anything else. They walked back into the room, and she glanced at him, her eyes wide. Because despite her justifications for this, she was scared. So scared that she would not be able to handle this, whatever they were going to through at her. She'd made it this far, but now it meant nothing. _

"_It is alright to be frightened," he said, his voice so soft she could barely distinguish it," You do not always have to be strong." _

_They pulled her to her feet, but her eyes stayed locked with Eli's, not resisting as they dragged her to another room. A flurry of kicks assaulted her body, and then they left. She heard the footsteps, the same door opening, and then the gunshot. And then she cried. For Tali, for Ari..For Jenny, for Tony…for Sophie, and for her father, who she had never understood until minutes before he was executed. It seemed the tears would not stop, and when they came back into to pull her out of the room, kicking her in the head, she welcomed the growing blackness, both from the sky, and from her losing consciousness. Because anything had to be better than this. _

She awoke from the dream, almost startling the man sitting next to her, who was already giving her strange looks, and tried to calm her breathing. She had not had that dream in years. And there it was, rearing its ugly head to remind her of the past. That despite the fact she had wanted to die, she had been held captive for over 10 years. She shivered, pulling the blanket tighter around her shoulders, and hoped this would come to a resolution soon. Being optimistic was impossible at a time like this, especially after all that had happened. She would know more once she got to London.

* * *

Abby was pacing. She was so sick of this waiting game. She felt like she'd been left out of something huge, and Tim and Tony had left hours ago. So here she was, tapping her foot impatiently and staring at the screen capture from that train station, waiting on the results of the hair. So far, there was nothing. She was bored. There were bones in the building, but all she could tell was that it was Hasad, save for the small sliver of pinky finger that was also found, burnt to the point where it was impossible to find a match. So she was hanging out with Morticia's hair and whatever forensic evidence they had managed to grab. When Agent Dunham entered the room, her head shot up from where she was bent over the computer.

She reasoned that he was probably annoyed as well, given the fact that he was filling in for Tony while he took off to the hospital, even though Gibbs was still sleeping. What were they doing there?

"Anything on the hair?" he asked her, and she shook her head, staring at him.

"Do you know something?" she asked him, and he stared at her strangely.

"Abby, you know I can't-"she scoffed.

"Okay, well let me tell you this. I've searched through every DNA record we have for missing persons, as well as the live ones, and there is no match for anything but the blood, so unless you have something to tell me, I'm going to go to the hospital myself and figure out exactly what Tony is trying to hide!" she said, surprised when he held up an evidence bag.

"What's that?" she asked, completely sidetracked by its appearance.

"It's a note, and I want you to analyze the handwriting…test it for prints…"she crossed her arms.

"Look, Chad…you may be fill in director while Tony's all incognito, but he would be the first to tell you that I don't like being kept out of the loop! What does this half to do with the case?" she said, grabbing the evidence bag and tossing it on the table.

"The Peace Corps picked up an unconscious female in Tel Aviv two days ago…she never made it to the base. But she left this note. Her hair was freshly cut. She was missing a pinky finger," he told her, and her eyes narrowed.

"So you think she was their captive?" he nodded.

"The man that was helping her…he said that she had a Vitamin D deficiency. A big one. Did that match up with the hair sample?" he asked her, and she nodded.

"Yep…"she glanced down at the piece of paper, and did a double take, staring at the handwriting in shock.

"What is it?" he asked her, and she shook her head.

"Nothing," Abby said shortly, "I'll tell you if I find anything, okay?" Chad nodded, confused, and left Abby alone, staring at the note in shock. There was no way. She set the note down, staring at the paper like it was going to attack her. It could be faked. But the pen strokes weren't' consistent with that. And the wording…she shook her head. This was ridiculous. She was clearly losing it.

So she busied herself with dusting the note for prints, and found a full thumb on the back. It was almost deliberate. She frowned, taking the necessary steps before she ran the print through AFIS. If this woman was trying to hide herself, she was certainly doing a horrible job at it. There was no match, and then she frowned, leaning back to stare past the computer to a small bulletin board on the wall, Ziva's face smiling back at her. It would be too bizarre, too much like Jenny's father's fingerprint all those years ago. But she searched anyways. The computer pinged quickly, and she glanced up, her eyes meeting the large brown eyes on the screen.

Abby kept telling herself that someone could have faked this. It could all be a lie. But something was telling her it wasn't. Which meant Ziva was out there, somewhere, hiding from everyone because she felt she had to. She deleted the search quickly. If they were keeping secrets, she could certainly do so until she knew more. And she had to pick Will and Jessie up from school. She put the evidence away, and turned off the lights in her lab, intent on getting out of the building before someone noticed the look on her face. The look saying that Ziva David might actually be alive.

* * *

Everything was so…wet. That was the only way Ziva could describe things, sitting in the back of the cab she had hailed, slightly transfixed at how things hadn't changed in London. It was mostly still the same as before. 11 years, and hardly a difference. Her haggard appearance was hardly noticeable in the darkness, but the cabbie kept shooting her strange looks in the review mirror. He was just a man, Ziva had to remind herself that multiple times. When they finally pulled to a stop, she handed him twice the normal amount, aware that just by doing this she was leaving a trail. She wondered if anyone had gotten the note yet. Connor might be holding onto it until the right moment. But maybe not. But there were other clues…she was sure. Things she hadn't meant to do while getting out of Tel A Viv.

"Thank you," she said softly to the man, who nodded, staring at the cash and then back up at her.

"You sure you-"

"Yes. Have a nice night," she breathed, departing the car and staring down the street at the people milling about. As much as being in public scared her, she relished in the normalcy, taking small steps down the sidewalk, letting the rain fall on her head and coat her skin. It was slightly warm, misty almost, the heat tainting the coldness of the water coming down. She was soaked, but she hardly cared, making her way down the familiar street, and then down a lane, her eyes centered on one house at the end of the block. The lights were off. That was a good sign.

She punched the code in the keypad by the door, and it sprung open. That was at least step one. Once the door had been closed, she let out a sigh of relief, leaning against it. And then she heard the sound of the safety being clicked off on a gun, and tensed, staring ahead of her into the darkness.

"Who are you?" the voice questioned, and Ziva frowned. Why did that sound so…familiar? She tiled her head to the side, and dropped her bag, raising her arms almost automatically in surrender.

"I don't mean any harm. I only seek solace," Ziva breathed, and the woman, Ziva had figured out it was a woman's voice by now, got closer to her. She felt the butt of the gun against her temple, and tried not to start shaking.

"Who, are you?" the woman repeated, pushing the gun slightly against Ziva's head for further emphasis of her point. Ziva bit her lip, trying to figure out who was pointing the gun at her.

"My name is Ziva," she whispered finally," I'm not here to hurt you. I don't even know who you are, actually, so it's best that maybe you-"the woman flipped the lights on, and Ziva blinked for a moment, blinded by the bright florescent lighting, her eyes settling slowly to reveal who was standing in front of her, her gun down.

"Oh my God," she breathed, staring at the face in front of her. So perhaps she was dead, she surmised, as she fainted, falling to the side and collapsing onto the wood floor, her eyes rolling up in the back of her head.

* * *

She was sleeping again. Tony just observed her from the doorway, leaning slightly against it, McGee standing behind him uncomfortably. This was weird. It was like watching a scene he wasn't supposed to be apart of.

"This isn't the most awkward situation we've ever been in, you know," Tony reminded him, and McGee shot him a look, moving to the side so he could stare at Tony's daughter properly, light brown curly hair around her like a halo as she slept.

"Its like she hasn't slept in years. She's always sleeping," Tony added. Tim had never seen Tony so calm yet excited about something. There was some emotion underlying all of that, but he had yet to figure out what else Tony was thinking. Because the second he'd seen Sophie, Tony had only been thinking about her. And McGee was staring to realize that rather than suspecting this like the rest of them had, Tony had figured it out a while ago. By himself.

"You know we're all here to support you, right?" McGee ventured, and Tony glanced back at him, a strange look on his face.

"Don't get all sentimental on me. The only reason that I kind of know what I'm doing right now are your two rug rats," Tony told him, reaching behind McGee to close the door.

"How long have you known?" McGee asked.

"I found out two days ago…Gibbs was actually the one that found out…he found her birth certificate…" Tony trailed off as Sophie moaned softly in her sleep, stretching on the bed, a frown on her face as she opened her eyes slowly. The frown transformed into a wary smile the second she saw Tony. Tim was transfixed. She looked so much like Ziva, save for the small differences in her eyes, her skin tone, and hair. And her height. Her eyes moved to Tim's for a moment, and she raised an eyebrow. So she must know who he was.

"Hi," she said, attempting to sit up, and Tony walked over quickly, while Tim watched in interest.

"Hey," Tony voiced, kissing the top of her head gently and sitting down next to her, his hand finding hers easily. He squeezed it, and she smiled again, looking past him to catch Tim's eyes again, motioning to the chair on the other side. So Tim sat down, feeling extremely out of place.

"You tell anyone your name besides Jeanne?" he asked her, and McGee raised an eyebrow. Sophie made a face.

"You know, you're going to have to tell me more about her. The way she looks at you is quite intense," she informed him, and Tony glanced down for a moment.

"Your mom taught you to be really perceptive, didn't she?" he asked, and she shrugged.

"I believe it has come with the territory," she responded, and Tony shook his head, fighting back a grin. This whole situation was unbelievable to him.

"I'll tell you someday, about Jeanne," he told her a second later.

"Jeanne's her doctor?" McGee asked him, and Tony nodded.

"Turns out the world is smaller than I thought," he informed McGee.

"She's been perfectly kind," Sophie ventured," Despite that, Tony continues to stare at her like any second she'll fly off the knob," she informed him, and McGee bit back a laugh.

"Handle," Tony corrected her, and Sophie made a face.

"I am going to have to get better at this…"she told Tim a second later.

"So, do you know who Timmy is?" Tony asked, and Sophie raised an eyebrow.

"I believe I have your books, _Timmy,_" she said, amusement present in her voice, and Tim shot Tony a look.

"She seems much more intelligent than you…don't teach her your ways. It could be dangerous," Tim told Tony, and Sophie tilted her head to the side, staring at Tony for a moment.

"So what is going to happen now?" Sophie asked Tony a second later, breaking the silence," I hate hospitals," she added, as if it were something he needed to know.

"They were going to transfer you, but you came away from this really lucky…and they think that as long as you promise to rest, you can go home," Tony told her, and she frowned.

"Where's home?" she asked him, slightly apprehensive, and Tony sighed.

"For now? My apartment. Until we get something bigger…"

"She left me a house here…I have the deed in my bag. All of it was in my name…but I don't know where it is exactly…."Tony's eyes widened.

"Ziva left you a house?" Sophie nodded.

"Can we just handle it later though? I just would like to get out of here as soon as possible…" Tony made a face, and Sophie understood his expression at once.

"Someone will have to talk to me? What would you like me to say?" She said finally, and Tony frowned.

"Just that you found out I was your father, and you were coming to see me….we'll have you write a statement eventually…but right now…is probably not the best time to add that to our work with taking down Mossad," Sophie brushed her hair out of her face, staring at him curiously.

"What happened?" she asked, and he frowned.

"Bombing on your grandfather's property…it killed Hasad…"her eyes widened momentarily in surprise.

"What was he doing there?" she asked, curious, trying to hide her relief. Maybe now it would all be over. But these things rarely ended with the death of the leader.

"He was underneath the garden…"her pupils dilated momentarily, and she frowned, thinking of how he could have gotten in.

"Was there anything else down there with him?" she asked Tony softly, her eyes trained on the blanket.

"Just a control room…video tapes….They were in a fireproof safe….but everything else was gone…"Tony said, and McGee wondered how he knew all this information. It must be something like a Gibbs sense," We're recovering the tapes…. and looking for evidence…But I can't tell you who did it. But as far as we can tell…Mossad is on it's way to being a memory," Tony assured her softly. She finally glanced up, her mind working a mile a minute. How had he gotten in? And not been trapped in there? There were few ways it could have been accomplished, and that had her thoughts spinning inside her brain. It just didn't make sense.

"Sophie?" Tony asked a minute later, and she finally focused on his face, realizing she had tears in her eyes. He was hugging her again before she could tell him it was unnecessary. His hands holding her upwards. She took a deep breath, and tried to calm down. Being weak was a nuisance sometimes. Even if this was her father. She'd basically thrown away all her defenses when he walked into her life. She needed to be stronger.

"I'm alright," she assured him quietly, leaning back to stare at his face. It was almost comical how uncomfortable he looked, despite how easy it was for him to hug her. This would take getting used to, for both of them. She felt as if she'd let very few people into her life…and they all, for the most part, had left or been killed because of it.

"Are you sure?" he pressed, and she glanced down for a moment. He was just as good at reading her emotions as he must have been with her mother's. His eyes said what his mouth couldn't, not with McGee around.

"Later?" she asked softly, and he nodded quickly, McGee observing their exchange interestingly.

"I think we're going to have to bring you in…but I won't let them interrogate you…okay?" he said softly, and she nodded.

"I won't tell them anything about mom, okay? Or the fact that you're-"Tony cut her off.

"I trust you, Sophie…and I'm going to take care of you…even though I doubt you're used to having anyone do that…"Tony told her seriously, and she managed to smile, staring over at Tim for a moment. Tim squirmed. It was almost as if she was analyzing him.

"Can he question me?" she said, turning back to Tony, and Tony and Tim's eyes met over her hospital bed.

"I was thinking that would be best…"she added, at the silence that followed.

"No, you're right…that'll work," Tony said finally, glancing at the door. He'd have to talk to Jeanne eventually, but for now, he could use his pull to get her out of the hospital and to NCIS without much incident. He had some phone calls to make.

**So I promise Gibbs will be in the next part. And that I'll update a little sooner. I think. Meh. Its so hard with finals. Not that I don't hate that I can't update every day with an 11 page update. Lol. But press the button beneath and tell me what you think okay???**

**-Jena**


	16. Part 8 1 of 4

_Catch me if you Can_

_Jena Rink_

_December 15, 2009_

_Part 8 ¼_

_Authors Note: Hey guys! Miss me? I was swallowed by school, but its over now, and I'm thankful that I passed every class. Lol. There may be a slight plot discrepancy in this part. I didn't have time to check, but it should be pretty obvious if there is, and I can correct it asap. Please let me know what you think! Your reviews and support continue to astound me. Im sure this needed more beta-ing. But Im really tired. And wanted this out to you. Sort of an early Christmas present. Haha_

_-Jena_

He was staring at her again, laughing softly with Chloe while they filled out forms. He'd had to step out with McGee to make some arrangements but now they were back, and hopefully getting Sophie out of the hospital for good.

"Hi," Tony breathed finally, poking his head in the door. Her hospital room was where he'd wanted to be all day, just to prove she was still real. That this hadn't been some crazy dream. McGee had split with Tony as soon as they'd walked into the hospital to go and check on Gibbs. So Tony had time to prepare her for meeting people. He wasn't sure how'd she'd react. She certainly knew the world of Tibbs, Lisa and Tommy. Ziva hadn't skimped on that, because all the books were in her bag.

"Hey, Tony," Chloe said, leaning against the wall in an uncomfortable looking chair, a piece of paper in front of her," I just signed her transfer papers…"Tony nodded.

"I'd rather get her out of the hospital all together, is that possible?" he asked, and Sophie shot a look of gratitude in his direction. So he could tell she wasn't happy. She felt caged-in in the hospital. She hadn't been in one since she was little, unless she was stealing medical supplies," Getting her home if I hire a nurse?"

"I can look into it. But you're going to answer Franklin's questions," she told him, referring to the CIA director who was very angry that he hadn't been able to check on the identity of the Jane Doe," They're expecting a statement, but they want to talk to you too…I have copies of all her papers, but that seems like it's not enough…"

"Ah, damage control. My favorite. And I suppose I'll have to talk to immigration and NSA and Homeland Security too," he reasoned, scratching the back of his neck. He didn't want to have to relive this. Right now he needed to be there for Sophie. But McGee could take care of it. He was always good for that sort of thing. And he'd tackle introducing her to Sara and Abby and Palmer later on. Yes, that was probably the best idea.

"You guessed correctly," Chloe, responded, staring at Sophie, who had remained quiet throughout the entire conversation. She looked upset.

Sophie felt guilty. He shouldn't have to go through this. And yet again, he noticed, sitting down on the side of her bed and grabbing her hand.

"You don't have to feel guilty about any of this," he told her seriously, squeezing her hand gently.

"When you talk to McGee, you need to say only what's necessary," Chloe interjected," He'll ask the right questions, and you can write your statement after. That way you'll know what to say. Okay?" Tony was slightly apprehensive about what she might say. Did he really want to know what she had been through?

"I am only going to tell them why I was coming here…and who was after me. It should suffice," she assured them quietly, and he relaxed.

"But we still need to talk, okay?" he told her, realizing it would help her, getting it out of her system. Just as it had helped Ziva after Somalia. She was exactly like Ziva in many ways. Strangely calm after such a horrible childhood.

"Okay," she said finally. Chloe felt like she was intruding on a very personal moment, and was about to get up when the door opened, Gibbs and Tim in the doorway. Gibbs was in a wheelchair, trying his best not to be annoyed with the situation.

"Dinozzo…you can't get them to wave this whole wheelchair thing?" he said, motioning to the chair, and Tony fought back a smile.

"Hospital policy, boss," he said, and promptly smacked himself on the back of the head," Sorry, boss," he added, as Sophie stared on in interest.

"So you are Gibbs…"she ventured, and he nodded silently, his eyes boring into hers.

"That'd be me," Gibbs said simply, glancing up at McGee," Can you just get me the hell out of here? That way I can get rid of this stupid…"Tony shot him a look.

"They need our statements at work," he said, and Gibbs rolled his eyes.

"Does anyone else know about her?" Gibbs asked, gesturing to Sophie.

"Just Dunham…Jeanne's her doctor," he added, and Gibbs raised an eyebrow.

"You sure know how to pick em, Dinozzo," he said, glancing up at McGee," Can we at least get some coffee on the way?"

"Only Decaf, Boss. Doctor's orders," Gibbs grunted in disapproval as they left the room, and Sophie was left pondering the fact that she was in fact, joining a family. They were all very comfortable around each other, or so it seemed. Chloe and "McGee" seemed like younger brothers to Tony, while Gibbs seemed to be the father of the group. She wondered where the others she had not met yet would fit in. Where she would fit in. If she would fit in. Her worry must have been obvious, because Tony squeezed her hand gently.

"Today might be a little overwhelming. But they'll love you, I promise. It'll just take some time," he told her reassuringly, Chloe watching the pair in interest. She'd never seen him be so honest and forward with someone. Abby had always told her he'd been that way with Ziva around the time she had left. But he'd always been a sarcastic smart aleck to Chloe, who only saw her as a little sister, someone to pick on and be protective of, but not in an obvious way.

"Lo, can you get the car? Did you bring the clothes?" Tony questioned, and she nodded, getting up mindlessly to grab the American Eagle bag in the corner.

"This was the store with the longest jeans. I told the lady what you said, that you have legs for miles," she informed Sophie, and Tony shot her a look.

"That can't be a self analysis," Tony said, and Sophie giggled slightly, a blush creeping onto her cheeks," Did you manage to get a boyfriend on your little excursion across the pond, Sophie?"

"Something like that," she said evasively, causing Tony to roll his eyes as Chloe thrust a pair of uggs and a bag from Victoria's Secret at Sophie.

"She's 17, Chloe! She doesn't need lingerie!" Tony said, spluttering, and Sophie burst out laughing.

"You missed the Disney underwear phase, Tony, now leave us alone so I can help her get dressed!" Chloe shot back, her hands on her hips," I didn't get her anything revealing!" she said, pushing him out the door and into the hallway, a wry smile on Gibbs face at the look of indignation on Tony's.

"You'll get the hang of it, Dinozzo," he told him, and Tony nodded, leaning against the glass wall and staring blankly into space.

"I completely missed that point where she became an adult," he pointed out, running a hand through his hair as Jeanne came around the corner.

"I think she missed that point too, Dinozzo," Gibbs responded, as he reached out and grabbed Jeanne's arm. She stopped, and turned to look at him, confused.

"What's up, Tony?" she questioned, as the cogs turned in Tony's head. He needed someone to look after Sophie. Someone with medical training. Someone he could trust. And he wasn't sure he could trust her. But it was worth a shot.

"How would you feel about taking a paid vacation?" he asked her, and she frowned.

"She needs someone to look after her at home. I can't spare one of us…but you…you seem to have done a good job so far. And you kind of owe me," he pointed out, and she made a face.

"I don't know. I'd have to ask," she responded, and Tony nodded shortly.

"Okay. Just think about it. She doesn't want to be at the hospital…but I don't feel comfortable leaving her alone right now…"Tony responded, as his cell phone rang.

"Tony, no phones in the-"he shot her a look.

"I know, Jeanne. I'll take it outside," he walked outside, and leant against the wall, bracing himself for the onslaught of Director Vance's wrath.

"What the hell is going on over there?" he winced, holding the phone slightly away from his ear.

"Oh, that's a long story. You chose a hell of a time to skip out, Vance…big first week…" Tony said vaguely.

"And you left Dunham in charge while you gallivanted off to some hospital not on the base, and you're not sharing jurisdiction?" Vance said, his voice rising. Tony cut him off.

"Something came up. Of a personal nature...Gibbs was on assignment…from me. in New York…trailing the girl from Paris that we've been following…Sophie..."his voice raised slightly at the sound of her name," And I think you know the rest…I didn't want to raise alarm for no reason…but with Mossad getting taken down, and Chad's knowledge of that operation, it seemed best that he handle that half of it while I handled the part going on here. I fully intend to cooperate with Franklin, and anyone else that wants Sophie's statement. After McGee questions her…"he trailed off, waiting for his response.

"Why are you calling her Sophie, does she have a last night?" Vance questioned, and Tony swallowed.

"Yeah, apparently its Dinozzo," he said, not wanting to beat around the bush.

"She's your daughter?" Vance paused for a moment," Oh, you didn't…"he realized, and Tony closed his eyes tightly for a moment.

"Jeanne's running the DNA…but she has papers…she was living with Mike Franks in Mexico until his murder…and she's been on the run since…"Tony breathed quietly," I haven't gotten the chance to talk to her about that…but it looks like she was the last person to see Ziva alive…I think Ziva planned on her getting out."

"I'll be back on Monday at 0800, just for consulting for another week…that should give you some time to settle Sophie in," Vance said, and Tony frowned.

"You're just…going to okay this?" Tony questioned, confused.

"SecNav seems to think you have good instincts…use them," Vance hung up, and Tony let out a breath of relief as Jeanne came outside.

"Everything alright?" she asked, and Tony started laughing softly.

"Define alright…"he responded," I found out I had a daughter I never knew about…. Gibbs got shot…Sophie got shot…and apparently has before…and I just got a promotion and a daughter all within the same week," he told her, his eyes meeting hers.

"I can help…I got four weeks off," she responded, and he stared at her nametag.

"Lewis?" he questioned, and she shrugged.

"He's in the Marines," she responded," He's in Germany right now…"Tony nodded.

"I um…I have to get her to NCIS…and somehow convert my office into a bedroom…at least for now…and…apparently Ziva left her a house? And a storage unit? And…"Jeanne cut him off.

"I do owe you…you don't have to worry about anything except for her…okay? I'll try and take care of the rest," she said, and he nodded quickly.

"Your husband's not going to come back and kill me for what I did to you, is he?"

"By the time I met him, I wasn't mad at you any more," she said simply," Now should we get this show on the road or what?" she added, motioning back to the hospital entrance, and he nodded.

"Sure, Jeanne," he followed her back inside the hospital and towards the elevators, wondering exactly what he was getting himself into, both with Sophie and with Jeanne. Only time would tell.

* * *

"Where's daddy?" Jessie said simply, staring at Abby from across the kitchen, which was trying to pack their lunches.

"He's been at work all night, apparently," she said dryly, dark circles evident under her eyes. What in the world was going on? Tim's cell phone was off. She knew something was up, but he was fine. Chloe and Tony weren't answering either.

"Uggggh,"she groaned, realizing they were out of juice boxes.

"I'm giving you lunch money," she announced, and Will's eyes lit up, while Jessie continued to stare at her mother strangely.

"We're going to figure out what is going on," she informed her mother, who ran a hand over her eyes.

"I know you are, sweetie. Probably before I do," Abby said under her breath, gathering their things before ushering them to the car, her mind on other things. Like the DNA test she needed to perform on that hair. That was the final piece. If that hair was Ziva's, then Ziva was alive. Or at least she was within the past week.

She dropped the kids off mindlessly, and made her way into work, waving at the security guy distractedly as she got into the elevator, intent on getting into her lab and then breaking for an extremely large Caff Pow. But what she saw when she got downstairs shocked her. Her futon was pulled down, and there was a long and lithe body sprawled out across it, an IV in her arm, her eyebrows furrowed. Abby was struck with how much she looked like Ziva, lying there, incredibly fragile, covered in her skull fleece blanket, using Bert as a pillow.

"She looks so much like her, doesn't she?" she turned around to stare at Tony, who was sitting against the wall in her office, staring across the room at the girl, who Abby now recognized as Sophie, the girl in the video from Paris.

"What is she doing in here?" she questioned, trying to keep her voice steady, and Tony glanced up at her, his eyes meeting. Abby recognized the look in them. It was love. But not the kind of love she held for Tim, not the kind Tony had held for Ziva and Gibbs had held for Jenny. The kind that Abby felt for Will and Jessie. And then she understood.

"You've got to be kidding me," she breathed, speaking before she had the time to think it through," You've known this whole time, haven't you? Wasn't lying about Ziva enough for you?" the girl opened her eyes blearily, seeing the blurry form of a tall woman with black hair in a lab coat, yelling at Tony.

"I had an idea, Abby. That's it. You think I wasn't surprised?" Tony shot back, his voice rising in volume," You think I haven't spent the last four days wondering how the hell Ziva could keep something like this from me?"

"Well you must have done something wrong for her to take off like…"

"Stop it!" Sophie finally said, and they both turned to stare at her.

"You're awake," Tony realized dumbly, and Sophie shot him a look.

"It is eight, is it not? I have to go upstairs and meet with…McGee, remember?" the look on Abby's face shocked her slightly, as she disconnected her IV with expert hands.

"Sophie," Tony started, and she shook her head. She shouldn't expect that every one would welcome her with open arms. This Abby...at least, seemed to be angry. Possibly with her mother, and not Sophie. Only time would tell.

"It is fine," she said softly, standing in front of him and next to Abby, who couldn't keep her eyes off this taller version of Ziva with lighter hair. It was like going back in time for her," Abby…is it? Thank you for letting me sleep on your futon," her eyes met Abby's for a brief moment, the emotion in them startling Abby.

"I will go meet with McGee upstairs…"she then told Tony, kissing him on the cheek softly before leaving the room, both Abby and Tony staring at each other in silence.

"She looks so much like her," Abby breathed, as soon as the door to the lab shut, and Tony rolled his eyes.

"She needs a family, Abby. If I don't think you're going to accept her for herself, and not a target for your anger about Ziva, then I'll move out. I'll go stay somewhere else with her. Because she needs support…not yelling,"he said, and Abby winced, getting defensive without realizing it.

"Well maybe if I knew she was coming…."

"I didn't find out she existed until right before she entered the country! And even then I wasn't sure! When you came here to yell at me I was still digesting the fact that she could have lied to me about this," Tony informed her," I have a meeting in MTAC in five minutes, and then I have to go watch your husband interrogate my daughter, and explain to homeland security, NSA, and the FBI and CIA how she managed to slip under their radar for so many years. So if you'll excuse me-" Abby's face looked crushed. She took a step towards Tony, and he shook his head.

"Tony, I-"

"Don't bother," he informed her simply, turning on his heel and leaving the room, while Abby studied his reflection in the glass. He looked like hell, like he hadn't slept in days. And she'd just made a huge mistake. A huge, mistake. One she wasn't sure she'd ever be able to rectify. But maybe she could. Her eyes flew over to the note, and the hair, and she walked over to the Mass Spec, intent on finding a match before the end of the day. But it wasn't difficult. The first parameters she put in matched. The hair was Ziva's? That didn't make sense. But then again, none of this did.

"Abby?" she didn't look up from what she was staring at, her eyes wide and glassy.

"Abby, I'm sorry I didn't come home last night…I take it you met Sophie?" she didn't move.

"Uh-huh," she breathed, and McGee frowned.

"Did you get the kids off to school okay?" Abby nodded weakly, staring down at the match.

"Tim?" she questioned softly, and he frowned, staring down at the hair.

"Did you find a match?" she motioned wordlessly to the computer screen, and he frowned.

"But if that's Ziva's hair…"he started, and she glanced over at him.

"Then she is clearly not as dead as we thought she was," Abby murmured, her eyes locked on the photo of Ziva on the screen, along with her small service record and death records.

"I have to go and interrogate Sophie…"McGee said, and Abby sighed.

"Try and keep this a secret until I know more, okay?" Abby asked him, and he turned back to stare at her.

"Don't you think that we've maybe had our fill of secrets for the year?" he asked, and she didn't respond. She didn't want to get anyone's hopes up. That wasn't fair. Especially to Tony and Sophie.

* * *

When Ziva woke up, there was a gun pointed at her again.

"Hands above your head. We don't want things to get messy," the woman looked to be slightly older than Ziva. Slim, with long hair. She was white, and her accent was clearly American. Her voice was soothing, a hint of an English accent weaving through her words. Her eyes, in particular, left Ziva no doubts as to who she was. But she didn't know how that was even possible.

"I am not here to hurt anyone. I only seek solace," Ziva managed to say, staring at the gun, a strange expression on her face. She almost wanted the woman to shoot. She had no idea where these thoughts were coming from, but they were there. As her eyes adjusted back to the darkness, she noticed the woman's blue eyes. She was very pretty, and insanely calm. Why was she so familiar?

"What's your name? Who do you work for?" the girl persisted, standing up and walking towards her slowly.

"I don't know who I work for, not anymore. I suppose I am a free agent," Ziva said, and the girl's eyes narrowed.

"I asked you, who you were," she repeated, Ziva staring at the gun, almost in a trance.

"I'm sorry," she managed, and the girl glanced down momentarily.

"Don't apologize, it's a sign of weakness," she said softly, her face staring at Ziva in confusion.

"My name is Ziva David," she said quietly, and the girl frowned, tilting her head to the side, her eyes boring into Ziva's with coolness she recognized.

"Who are you?" Ziva asked a moment later, and the girl shook her head, bringing her gun down.

"Lock the door behind you," she said softly, and Ziva complied. The lights flipped on, and she winced, staring at the girl, taking in her appearance. Brownish red hair, freckled skin, and pale blue eyes. Eyes Ziva was more than familiar with. In the harsh lights of the safe house, it made it completely obvious to Ziva who this woman was.

"Who are you?" she said, hoping she didn't open yet another can of worms with her answer.

"My name is Kelly," the girl said softly, scrutinizing Ziva's appearance," I've been in protective custody of the CIA since I was nine," she said quietly," I've been at this safe house for the past twelve years, since they moved me," she said softly.

"What happened to put you in protective custody?" Ziva ventured quietly, and Kelly shook her head, still staring at Ziva.

"I don't remember, I have amnesia," she breathed, staring over at the clock on the wall," they are going to call me to check in….I-" Ziva cut her off.

"Please do not inform them I am here….I came here to recover. I wasn't aware it was being used…"Ziva breathed, steadying her body with a weak hand on the wall.

"Oh my god! Your finger!" Kelly said softly, walking towards her, Ziva cowered, as Kelly noticed the bruises marring her face.

The phone rang, and she stilled, staring at Ziva for a moment.

"Please," Ziva breathed quietly, and Kelly finally nodded.

"No, I'm alright. It was just a solicitor," she said quietly," yes, the same time next week," she added, hanging up the phone as Ziva crumpled to the ground, unconsciousness claiming her. Kelly stared at her in alarm.

"Ziva…"she said, shaking her shoulder gently, and Ziva winced, opening an eye blearily to stare at her. She was the spiting image of her father," Can you stand?" Kelly helped her to her feet, and over to the couch she'd been sitting on earlier.

"There used to be a first aid kit in the hallway bathroom on the top shelf," Ziva said, and Kelly nodded.

"I got it," Kelly said, "just try and keep your eyes open," she walked off, getting the box off the top shelf and bringing it back to the front.

"I need some alcohol," Ziva told her, and Kelly frowned, getting a bottle of vodka from the cabinet, walking back into the room to see Ziva with her shirt off, removing a large bandage over her stomach, where a stab wound marred her skin. Her eyes widened in alarm.

"What do you do here, Kelly?" Ziva asked, trying to distract herself from the throbbing pain in her stomach. It was clearly infected. Some of the stitches they had put in it had split.

"I work at a coffee shop near Paddington station…"she said softly, as Ziva undid several bandages littering her torso. Kelly was amazed by the scars, small white lines marring Ziva's skin, crisscrossing each other.

"What happened to you?" she breathed, entranced by all the cuts and scars marring her stomach. Ziva shook her head.

"Not something I would wish upon anyone else," she said finally, practically pouring the vodka over her stomach and clutching the edge of the couch for support. She was running on pure adrenaline now, and a tiny squeak escaped her lips as the liquid stung her wounds. Kelly stared at her in alarm.

"Are there butterfly bandages in the kit?" Kelly nodded, handing them to her, amazed at her handy work when she bandaged all her own wounds quickly,

"Thank you," Ziva breathed, sitting up slowly, wincing slightly at the throbbing pain still on her abdomen.

"What happened to your family? " Ziva said quietly, and Kelly frowned at her.

"I don't know. They just told me this was safe. I grew up here in the care of an old agent, and when I was old enough they put me in safe houses," she said finally.

"This world can be a horrible place sometimes," Ziva responded, reaching for her bottled water and taking a slow sip, wincing as it slid down her throat.

She was Gibb's daughter. Maybe Ziva was hallucinating, but the ages all matched up, her eyes, she had Gibb's eyes. And her age, it matched with the death of his family. Whoever had hidden her had done an amazing job, because when she did her background on the team initially it had said she was dead. Gibbs thought she was dead. Maybe Fornell had thought it would be too painful to see a daughter that didn't remember her own father? Because he had to be involved somehow. Franks wouldn't have been able to hold the secret in.

"You're staring at me like you've seen a ghost or something," Kelly said softly, tilting her head to the side, and Ziva sighed.

"You remind me of someone I used to know, that is all," Ziva said quietly,the sudden noise outside startling her.

"It's just Thunder," Kelly said quietly, taking a step towards her and sitting down next to her.

"I have not heard the sound of thunder in 11 years," Ziva said, and Kelly made a face.

"You must have been in the desert or something," she started, and stopped talking at the look on Ziva's face, her eyes widening in realization. She'd majored in criminology and psychology, and everything was becoming more apparent in Ziva's facial expressions. She'd been tortured. Held? Something along those lines. She was jumpy.

"You escaped from somewhere, didn't you?" Kelly ventured quietly, and Ziva turned to stare at her.

"I do not even know what I have escaped to anymore," Ziva managed, her eyes hollow, yet rimmed with tears," I have not been out in the open…"

"You've been held captive for 11 years?" she asked, her eyes widening. Ziva found she in a hug before she realized what was happening. She found it easier to tell her story to someone who didn't know her at all, regardless of her connection to the situation.

Tears were bubbling to the surface, and she couldn't stop them. She was a grown woman, and yet she'd been so dead to everything to so long. It was like coming back to life again, someone hugging her, she could help? Ziva wasn't sure. Maybe they could help each other.

* * *

The room was silent. Neither one of its inhabitants knew that the Director of NCIS was pacing on the other side of the glass, Gibbs seated next to him, writing down what could be his statement.

"We're going to start with the easy stuff, okay?" Sophie nodded, realizing that this was probably the last thing McGee wanted to be doing. They both looked really uncomfortable, and she hoped that Tony was watching should something go wrong.

"Name?" he questioned, and she raised her eyebrows, staring at him. Perhaps this was all a pretense.

"Sophia Daniela Dinozzo," she responded, softly, tapping her fingers on the table top idly, aware that at least for this portion of the questions, she was merely playing a part.

"Mother?" Tim asked her, and she sighed.

"Ziva David…"she breathed, her eyes clouding over for a moment, not noticing the strange look on Tim's face. It was taking everything he had to not rush into the room and tell Tony that there was a very good chance that Ziva was alive. As to her condition, it was anyone's guess.

"Father?" he asked, and she smirked.

"Anthony Dinozzo," she stated, leaning back in the chair to stare at Tim.

"You were born in Israel?" she nodded.

"Yes, In Tel Aviv…"Sophie stated," I lived in Mexico from the time I was six until the death of Michael Franks…and then I followed a set of clues left by my mother that eventually brought me here, to Washington…"she said, and he frowned.

"And Hasad has been after you…"

"Since they murdered my mother," Sophie breathed, a slight edge to her voice as she remembered the look in her mother's eyes as they dragged her out of the room. Wild, full of anguish and longing. She was shaken out of her daydream, or nightmare, when McGee touched her hand softly.

"You don't have to go into details. That's really all we need to know for now…they'll run your paperwork and do a search on your records, and everything should be fine. You're an American citizen just because Tony is your dad, okay?" Sophie nodded, feeling far too exhausted for such an early hour in the morning. Her eyes went up to the glass, and Tony's voice came over the intercom, instantly calming her.

"I think we're done here, McGee," Tony said, and Sophie sighed, getting up and handing Tim the form she'd written her statement on, following him out the door and across the hallway, meeting up with Tony, who looked extremely conflicted.

"What happens now?" Sophie asked McGee softly, and he frowned.

What worried her was that he didn't know either. And she was pretty sure even Tony had a very hazy idea of what would happen next.

_TBC_

_Okay, so? Thoughts? Stop favoriting this and not reviewing, please…because I heart reviews. Ps- did you all see that Tony and Ziva are going to Paris? I am seriously psychic. I swear. lol_


	17. Part 8 2 and 3 of 4

Catch me if you Can

Jena Rink

January 9, 2010

A/N: Okay. So…I know the Kelly thing threw you for a loop. Some liked it, some didn't. But I think you know that if you read my stories I really do everything for a reason…and I honestly spent over a month trying to decide what character to bring back. I wanted to be able to develop the character, so that narrowed the choices quite a bit, and I didn't want to bring Jenny back because that was a little too obvious. But Ziva needed someone to help her get back to normal, and honestly, Kelly seemed the best choice at the time I was writing it. Everything WILL be explained. I'm actually having tons of fun explaining it. So I hope you have tons of fun reading it. Lol. The negative reviews towards her return are why this took so long. I had a hard time with this part. A really hard time. So please be honest and tell me if it blows.

Kelly stared at the woman, Ziva, in interest. She was obvious very distraught, and even in her sleep one could tell that easily. It was easy enough to lie. Things had gotten to the point where she was able to have a little more freedom. A job, a few friends. That was all Kelly wanted these days, maybe a little adventure thrown in for fun. Because she couldn't remember every having fun, ever taking a risk. Sometimes she'd dream about it, though. Childhood laughter, the smell of sawdust and sandalwood, being spun around in circles by a faceless man, his hands comforting.

She was shaken out of her daydream by the screams suddenly coming from Ziva's throat, and knelt down, touching the side of her face hesitantly. Her eyes shot open to stare at Kelly's, shocked for a moment, and then she straightened, trying to regain her breath.

"I am sorry," Ziva whispered," I was yelling again?" Kelly nodded, her eyes soft.

"I could call in…"Kelly ventured, and Ziva shook her head.

"I am not going to ask you to alter the way you do things for me," Ziva whispered, her eyes someplace else. Kelly noticed.

"I'm calling in," she informed Ziva,"There's no use in you sitting around here freaking out and feeling sorry for yourself," Kelly stated, crossing her arms, and Ziva stared at her for a moment, strongly reminded of Gibbs. She was just like him. And Ziva, was still confused. This woman was Gibbs' daughter. That much was blatantly obvious. Whether she knew it or not. Her movements, her wording, the way she dealt with any problem…Ziva had been in London less than a week and she was certain that somewhere deep down inside of Kelly she did remember her father. And trying to make her remember, albeit subtly, would help distract Ziva from what was bothering her. What was to come. Because she had no idea.

Ten minutes later, Kelly had successfully faked sick, and had walked back into the room to find Ziva in the same position she had been in before, blankly staring off into space.

"So, why don't we start from the beginning?" Kelly asked conversationally, and Ziva frowned.

"The beginning of what?" she questioned softly, and Kelly smiled.

"Tell me everything about you. Start from the first thing you remember, and I'll start from mine…maybe it'll help? Talking about it?" she asked, and closed her eyes for a minute," I have a rule, about things that are bothering you. Anything that's bothering you. I think its rule number six. Nothing will ever get accomplished unless you can move on from the past…and rule number seven, is that the only way to do that…to move on, I mean. Is to talk about it," Kelly said matter of factly, plopping down next to Ziva, a bottle of vodka in her hand.

"And rule number eight, is that alcohol always helps," she added, and Ziva smiled faintly, staring over at the woman that had been so helpful. She didn't realize just how much she was helping Ziva. Because she was familiar.

"My mothers name was Daniela," Ziva started softly, taking the bottle from Kelly and opening it, taking a slow sip of the vodka and wincing as it slid down her throat," I had a sister, Tali, and a half brother…Ari…"she took a deep breath, and glanced up at Kelly, who was smiling at her encouragingly. Kelly was right. She had to do this.

* * *

Tony was confused. What was the difference between thread counts anyways? Jeanne had sent him on a simple errand, or so she thought, getting sheets. And Tony was in hell. Multi colored, pastel cotton, hell. He wished he could ask Abby. But he was still mad at Abby. He had to remind himself of that constantly. He gazed up at the sheets in confusion, only knowing that he had silk ones back in the day when he was a playboy. She would not be getting any of those, then. He didn't want to raise a playgirl…but he still wasn't sure if she was already grown. He cursed under his breath, and jumped at the laugh that came from behind him. Why was anyone laughing? This wasn't funny. It was a disaster! He spun around to see a woman about his age, with long blonde wavy hair and bright green eyes that immediately caught his attention.

"Never bought sheets before?" the woman ventured, raising an eyebrow, and he shrugged, staring at her in interest as she fought back laughter. He was going to suck at this, being a dad. He could already tell. He didn't know her favorite food, her favorite color, her favorite season…what she liked to wear. He was screwed. He stared up at the sheets again, and back at her, a helpless look on his face.

"Not for anyone but myself…I can't do this…I'm not cut out for it," Tony mumbled, running a hand through his hair.

"You don't have to have a panic attack. It's just sheets," the woman said in response," The cotton is not going to kill you, you know," she added, and he shook his head, a small smile creeping onto his face. She had no idea. Between Jeanne and Sophie, if he screwed up at all he would most certainly know.

"I don't even know where to start…what she likes…I don't know what she was thinking, sending me here," he said, not really talking to her, his face reddening.

"Purple…maybe lavender? Its pretty good as girls colors go," the woman said, and he turned to stare at her, nodding, his eyes meeting hers for the first time. She looked like she cared. Tony rarely went through life without charming his favors. And she seemed willing to give one for free. So why not take the chance.

"Lavender? And purple?" he asked, confused, and she grabbed his cart.

"I'll help," she told him," How old is she?" she added and Tony made a face. He wasn't sure whether he should ask her if she meant mentally or physically.

"She's seventeen…I think she would like purple…maybe a cream, too?" he said, and she smiled.

"We're decorating her whole room?" Tony nodded, and she grinned.

"We'll do purple, lavender, and cream…"she told him, and he nodded mindlessly, letting her throw what was necessary into the cart, telling her that cost didn't matter and that he wanted the best, and eventually ending up at his car, the woman standing next to him awkwardly.

"Thank you," he said, really meaning it, and she grinned.

"I know how teenage daughters can be," she told him, and he nodded, trying to seem like he did as well. But he had no idea. And that scared the hell out of him.

"I'm um…I'm Tony," he said, shaking her hand, and she blushed.

"Jane," she responded, shaking his hand and grabbing a piece of paper from her purse," if you have anything else you need help with you can call me," she told him, handing him the piece of paper. He stared at it for a moment, his eyes wide, and then back up at her.

"Thank you," he told her again, not really sure what to say, and she laughed, walking back towards her car, leaving her alone. Had he really just gotten someone's number? Without even trying?

* * *

"This look good?" Jeanne asked Sophie, who nodded absentmindedly, staring at the bed at the furniture store.

"It is fine," she remarked softly, and Jeanne bit back a smile, turning to the sales lady.

"This will work…and can we get a mattress for it too? And the rest of the bedroom set? And I think we're going to need a bookcase…"for all Sophie knew, Jeanne was speaking some language she had yet to learn. The language of domesticity. Who needed all this furniture when you could survive on nothing at all? Sophie was still in awe of it all, as Jeanne not only bought a bed, but the mattress, a desk, a bookcase, and a chest of drawers, as well as a small thing she called a love sac. It was comfortable, nonetheless. But Sophie still did not know what to expect when she finally got to Tony's apartment. And when they pulled up to the large house, she was confused.

"This is far too large for an apartment…"Jeanne pointed to the lights on above the garage, and Sophie understood.

They walked up the side stairs to a slightly open door. Apparently while they were out getting food, the furniture movers had come. She could hear music playing, and cursing coming from the first room, the door also slightly ad jar.

"Tony, don't tell me you're trying to be all domestic in there!" Jeanne called, and Sophie frowned, following her into what she assumed was her bedroom. And she was right. They'd already set up all the furniture, and Tony was staring at the room, his head titled slightly to the side, bags spread out all around him.

"I am so bad at this…"he admitted, staring more at Jeanne than Sophie. Jeanne started laughing softly, and moved to help him, while Sophie sunk onto the love sac that had been purchased earlier, watching them interact with interest.

"Its just a fitted sheet," Jeanne said, helping him take it out of the package and spreading it over the mattress.

"This is why I have maids, Jeanne," he informed her, and she snorted, putting the finishing touches on the bed, and turning to face him, crossing her arms.

"Did you con some poor Martha Stewart into helping you with this?" she asked accusingly, and Tony shot her a cheesy grin. Sophie didn't fail to notice how well and at the same time awkwardly they interacted. She needed the full story. Perhaps she could get McGee to tell her. He seemed the easiest to break.

"Actually I think she was taken by my dashing good looks, Jeanne," He remarked, and she shook her head, laughing softly.

"Something's never change, do they?" she asked him, and he shrugged, turning to stare at Sophie, who had a strange look on her face.

"Do you like purple?" he asked Sophie, who shrugged noncommittally. Tony's face paled, and her eyes widened. He seemed very distraught about this whole experience, which was entirely new to Sophie. Perhaps she should tell him that, and it would help.

"Purple is nice. I have never had my own room," she informed him quickly, and he relaxed slightly.

"Never had your own room?" he questioned, and she shrugged, choosing to stare at the comforter that was still in its bag on the floor in front of them.

"It is fine, Tony," she told him, and he blinked for a moment. She could tell he felt guilty. She didn't know why. He didn't know about her. If she was her father, she reasoned, she'd be more angry with Ziva than anyone else," Really…. I do not want you to feel badly about this. It is not your fault in any way…"

"I think we're going to have to teach you contractions," he informed her, and Jeanne snorted, putting the finishing touches on Sophie's bed and turning to face them.

"Did you eat yet?" she asked Tony, and he shrugged.

"I'll just order a pizza," he told her, and she shook her head.

"Why do I get the feeling that that's all you ever eat?" she questioned, and he frowned, staring out the window at Abby's approaching car.

"Sometimes I eat with Abby, Tim and the kids…"he trailed off, turning back to them, and Sophie frowned.

"She does not like me. I suspect she is still angry with my mother," Sophie mused quietly, and Jeanne stared at her in astonishment.

"You're incredibly perceptive, you know that?" Tony threw in, and she shrugged.

"I should think it was obvious. But then again you were all angry…"she trailed off, suppressing a yawn. What was the use thinking about what could have been? She could have grown up here, in a house, with both her parents. But at least now she had one. She glanced up at Tony again, who was still staring out the window, an unreadable expression on his face.

"I think I need to go for a run," he remarked softly, turning towards Jeanne," You guys will be okay?" he added, and Jeanne nodded, the room falling silent as Tony walked out of Sophie's room quickly and into his.

"He has been through a lot, has he not?" Sophie questioned quietly, watching him leave the apartment seconds later, jogging down the stairs and towards the sidewalk and making a left turn, fading out of sight quickly.

"I'm not exactly sure," Jeanne remarked, turning towards Sophie," You want to watch a movie or something? I only have to hook you up to the IV while you're sleeping…so for now we can pretty much do whatever," she said, shoving her hands in her pockets, and Sophie nodded.

"Does Tony have a lot of movies?" she questioned, and Jeanne smiled.

* * *

Tony was frustrated. He was running off his frustration for the first time in years. His lungs were burning, but he didn't care. He just kept going, the slight chill in the air keeping him alert. He didn't want to be alert. Now that he had a daughter, he supposed that exhausting himself must be the alternative to alcohol. He turned back onto his street, and saw her sitting on the steps leading up to his apartment, her black braids swinging slightly in the breeze. He could tell her eyes were red.

This had been hard on all of them. Obviously the hardest on Tony. But he didn't know. He already looked conflicted. She was afraid of his reaction. If anything, she had to fix the animosity between her and Tony. He was right. Sophie needed support. And that was the first step. Until she knew more she shouldn't say anything. Because just because she had Ziva's hair, had her fingerprints on the note…it didn't mean she wasn't…Abby shook the thought from her head. If Ziva had been strong enough to stay in captivity for almost 11 years and survive, then surely she could make it here. Couldn't she? He slowed to a stop, staring at her for a moment before walking towards her, his hands shoved in his pockets.

"Tony…"she breathed, standing up, sniffling, and he just stared at her for a moment. She looked worse than he had when he found out. But Abby, despite her gothic tendencies, had always been the most emotional of the group. And she probably was going to hug him, despite the fact that he was sweaty from his run.

"So you thought about it," Tony ventured, and she launched herself at him in typical Abby fashion. Except this time she started crying," You were angry too, weren't you? I was for a while. I couldn't understand why she would lie to me about this. But seeing Sophie…I get it," Tony added softy. Abby just hugged him tighter.

"I was in shock! I'm sorry," she said through her tears, and he patted the back of her hair awkwardly," She looks just like Ziva…and I just-"

"Then you have a small idea of what I felt…"Tony responded, and she nodded, glancing down before he could see the unresolved emotion in her eyes and question it. She didn't know how she could hide this from him. Technically it was a federal offense. Tim would be the first to say that tomorrow once they got started. But she didn't want to hurt him again. He didn't deserve it. So she'd hold it in. Until she knew enough to prove that Ziva was alive, that she had been alive, she'd do nothing.

"She's upstairs, isn't she?" Abby said, and Tony nodded, glancing towards the door.

"She's upstairs with Jeanne…I hired her to watch Sophie until she's well enough to be on her own," Abby raised an eyebrow, but said nothing. Tony got her meaning anyways. It was weird; he'd be the first to admit that. He motioned for her to follow him, and she consented, following him up the stairs slightly hesitant at what she might find.

"I know, right? It's like one big happy family. The daughter I never knew I had, the woman I fell in love with undercover and later accused me of murder, and yours truly," Tony joked quietly.

When they opened the door, Jeanne looked up from where they were on the couch. Sophie had fallen asleep, unconsciously leaning on her. There were two mugs of hot chocolate on the coffee table, and the credits for "Up" were playing on the screen.

"She'd never even seen a cartoon! Can you believe that?" Jeanne said quietly, and Tony winced slightly," I, you're Abby, right?" she questioned, and Abby squinted at her. She still didn't like Jeanne. Tony shot her a look, and she rolled her eyes.

"Yeah. I'm Abby," she said, as Sophie's eyes opened blearily, coming up to stare at Abby and Tony in the doorway, her eyebrows furrowed for a moment while she regained her bearings.

"Hi,"She breathed, stretching slightly and then wincing, getting to her feet.

"Hi, Sophie…I'm um…sorry about earlier. I was just in shock…"Abby said, wringing her hands, and Sophie shook her head.

"I am sure it was somewhat the same as mine…finding out that my father was actually real and alive," she responded softly, getting to her feet and walking towards Abby," But I think I remember my mother talking about her friend with the black braided pigtails…"Abby smiled.

"She talked about me?" Abby asked, fighting the urge to blurt out that Ziva might still be capable of talking. Of course Ziva had talked about them. To some extent, the team had been her family. Abby considered her family, Tony, Gibbs, obviously Tim, Ducky and Palmer. They all got together for Christmas every year, though Ziva had always been notably absent. Maybe that could change if what she found was accurate.

"She read me the Deep Six books when I was very young…told me that parts of them were real…that she was Lisa…."Sophie trailed off, looking very uncomfortable, and glanced over at Tony

"Tony? Does she like hugs?" Abby questioned, and Sophie tilted her head to the side.

"I am sure I can get used to them if you like them so-"she stiffened slightly when Abby hugged her tightly.

"I'm sorry we got off on the wrong foot. I'm going to try and fix that," Abby said finally, pulling back to stare down at Sophie, seemingly still in shock from getting a hug.

"I should probably get Sophie to bed," Sophie wrinkled her nose, and Abby was strongly reminded of Ziva when she didn't want to do what she was told to.

"I am not an invalid, Jeanne," she remarked, and Tony snorted, a soft smile on his face.

"She's right, Sophie…otherwise we're going to have to keep you on the antibiotics during the day," Tony said, and she glared at him, following Jeanne into her room, where she promptly closed the door. Tony stared after her, a weird look on his face.

"I think Sophie may have just found that puberty she missed," Abby remarked, and Tony walked towards the kitchen, getting out a glass and some bourbon. He poured a small glass and downed it, turning back towards Abby.

"You look substantially freaked out right now," Abby observed, and Tony shook his head slightly, staring at the closed door.

"I'm still trying to wrap my head around this…"he informed her, and she shrugged.

"Well tomorrow's the weekend…at least you get to sleep in," she remarked, and he sighed.

"I'm on call until Monday. Vance gave me the week of starting at 0600…just to get her settled…"Tony said, and Abby raised an eyebrow.

"Maybe we can all hang out tomorrow?" she asked hopefully, and Tony nodded.

"Maybe," he said back, and she smiled.

"I'll come check on you guys in the morning," she said, as Jeanne slipped out of the room, switching off the light and grabbing the blanket off of the couch and the pillows Tony had provided. Abby stared at her for a moment, and then back at Tony, clearly giving him a 'We will talk about this later' look. She left, closing the door behind her, and leaving Tony and Jeanne in silence, staring at each other.

"Maybe we should have that talk?" Jeanne questioned, wringing her hands, and Tony walked towards the kitchen, grabbing another glass and filling it, handing it to Jeanne.

"Where exactly would you like to start with this talk?" he asked, and she took a long sip of her drink, both of them moving to sit on the couch.

"Why don't we just say what's on our minds?" Jeanne ventured, raising her eyes to meet his.

"I cannot believe you accused me of killing your father…"Tony remarked, and Jeanne tilted her head to the side, wincing slightly.

"I was hurt. The way everything came out…it wasn't exactly what you had in mind, was it?" Jeanne responded, and Tony shook his head.

"No. I didn't…I would have rathered that you never know…because it wasn't fair to you. It wasn't fair to either of us, actually. There was a point where I couldn't back out without hurting you…or me…you know I was lying to you when I saw it wasn't real…but by then it had faded enough so that I could function," Tony said, and Jeanne nodded, taking another sip of her drink.

"It's been a long time…"she said softly," I realized why you did it,"she added, and Tony nodded shortly.

"Sophie's mother? " Jeanne questioned, and Tony winced slightly.

"She's been dead…for awhile now," Tony responded simply, and Jeanne nodded.

"You don't have to tell me anything else…why don't you try and get some sleep. I gave her a sedative…she was really restless in the hospital," Jeanne explained, and Tony nodded, taking his glass towards his room and closing the door behind him. Jeanne found herself yawning unconsciously, and was out before she realized it, curled up on the couch.

* * *

She was warm. She couldn't tell if the sleeping medication Jeanne had given her was altering her dreams. She was in her mom's room in Tel A Viv, there was soft light filtering through the curtains, and her mother was sitting on the bed, her legs crossed, holding a lock of hair in her hand. That's when she realized her hair was shorter. It fell in tighter curls around her thin face. Her older looking face. She had cuts across her torso, and bruises littering her body. A small scar ran horizontally across her left cheek, and her lips were cracked, bloody. And Sophie, screamed. She couldn't help herself. This was not her mother. It couldn't be. Her eyes snapped open, vision slightly blurry. She winced, and sat up, realizing she was alone in the room. The door started to open, and she frowned, realizing she didn't have any of her weapons. So she settled for staring in the direction of the door, although she felt like falling over. Jeanne had obviously given her a sedative.

"Sophie?" she relaxed slightly when she heard Tony's voice,"You were yelling in your sleep…" she leant against the headboard, trying to stare at him, and he sighed.

"You're still groggy?" she attempted to nod, and winced slightly when he came closer, getting on the bed beside her. She leant against his shoulder unconsciously, and he tucked the blankets tighter around her.

"You in pain?" she made a sound that could be construed as 'No', and he squinted at her for a moment.

"It is hard for me to sleep," Sophie said, her voice slightly slurred," I am always on edge, I have always been on the run…"she added, and Tony put an arm around her shoulders, pulling her closer. The sedative was inhibiting her responses. Needless to say, she was not amused. But she felt comforted by his presence.

"You're safe here, I promise," he told her softly, and she burrowed her head into his shoulder, closing her eyes. He stroked her hair as her breathing evened out, and when he attempted to leave, her grip tightened on his arm.

"Do not leave," she informed him, her voice still slurred, and he fought back a smile at the death grip on his upper arm.

"I wont, Sophie," he promised, staring down at her in astonishment as she went back to sleep, starting to snore softly.

She was like a puzzle. She gave off this façade of being so strong, but sometimes she wasn't. And Tony was determined to figure her out.

I'm really not happy with this part. Although I thought the part about Tony getting sheets was funny. Tony and Jeanne aren't done talking, btw. And don't worry, before you flame me they will not end up together. Sorry for making y'all wait so long. And sorry that it isn't as good as it usually is…MEH.


	18. Part 9

Catch me if you Can

Of Tony and Sophie-

Jena Rink

**AN- Okay…so I should think y'all should love me for this. I honestly…had SO much fun writing the flashbacks…And there are going to be a lot of them in the next few parts. I didn't want this to be more than twenty pages, so I cut it. But the next few parts are going to focus, for the most part, on two characters at a time.**

**This part, for instance, is Tony and Sophie and Abby and Jeanne…the next I believe will be Ziva and Kelly/Gibbs and McGee and after that we'll get Abby and Palmer and the other agents…etc. While the plot will move forwards, you'll get more of a…shall we say…intimate look at what the characters are going through…and also get the answers to a LOT of questions you've been wanting the answer to. I think I'll run through this character development cycle twice. And it means longer chapters, because if you read my work at all you know I loves me some intense characterization. So I'm amazed by the amount of love and support and HITS! This has been getting…and I have 93 authors on story alert…I know who you are! Please tell me what you like about this. Its extremely hard to crank out an over 250 page somewhat. Novel…without tons of feedback along the way. And for those of you that review all the time, I tend to spoil you and give you little scenes…or spoil you with HUGE scenes…(like the Tony/Ziva reunion rough draft)…so there's a little incentive for actually telling me what you think, yeah?**

The day had been interesting. Between getting Sophie a wardrobe, which she insisted she pay for (Ziva apparently hadn't missed anything), stocking the fridge with food that Jeanne deemed appropriate for both of them, and Chloe showing up unannounced with an envelope full of dvds for him, he had been exhausted by the time Sophie and Jeanne had finally fallen asleep. The tapes. He'd shared a look with Chloe as she handed him the case file. It was clear she didn't know what was in the envelope, but she had an idea.

"Nate said to call him if you have any questions," she said softly, and he nodded.

"Thanks, Lo,"he'd whispered. She'd stood there awkwardly for a moment, and then walked out of the apartment. She was the agent on duty, since the regular team had been given the weekend off.

Something was bothering her. It was hard for Tony to figure out what, because he was itching to watch the tapes. And once he started….

He couldn't stand not watching the tapes, trying to see past the blurred curtain of long and curly hair. The woman was screaming at nothing, crying, laughing at random intervals. He was obsessed with waiting for her to turn towards the camera. But it hadn't happened yet. There were almost twelve years of tapes, staring with the women's blurry form lying on the ground, apparently unconscious. An argument had ensued, and then she had been forced into shackles and thrown in the corner, a steady stream of abuse being inflicted on her body. If she had gotten out, then she was most likely nothing close to sane. But Tony was obsessed. He wanted to help her so badly. But there was nothing he could do but wallow in her misery and despair as a third party.

Who was she? She was currently talking, screaming…it seemed, at nothing. Nothing, standing in the corner of the room. Her body language said a multitude of different things. He'd sent the videos to Nate before anyone else could see them, and this is what he got back, along with a 17 page long email detailing every significant event that happened in the seventeen years of tapes. The first time she'd woken up, the starting of her breaking down, the first time she'd been sexually assaulted. All of it with Nate's inept ability to see right into this woman's soul. One that he couldn't even hear talking, just observe. He reminded himself that Nate needed a raise, and took another sip of his scotch, leaning back in the chair and staring at her face. The man, Hasad, was throwing photographs on the table, and her reaction was obvious. Any movement froze. Whoever the pictures were of, they affected her greatly. It was too grainy to see.

As with the other tapes…this one was labeled only a few months ago, by the timestamp…he wanted something from her. She wasn't giving it to him. She was the epitome of resilient, according to Nate. It was clearly obvious to him that the question had always been the same, and she'd never given Hasad an answer, almost going as far as to be defiant, even 5, 10 years into her imprisonment. She had been trained to withstand this, Nate had told him. Anyone else would have broken. Anyone else would have been dead. But she wasn't. At least at this point in the tapes.

It was late. He shouldn't be sitting in the living room, watching the tapes on silent at his computer while Jeanne slept behind him on the couch. He wondered why he always seemed to have past girlfriends who snored? Jeanne's were not as loud, though, more soft as she slept fitfully. He'd been convinced the first couple of days that she'd go crazy and jump him in the middle of the night. But she hadn't. She'd been everything Tony didn't expect. He was beginning to think that Sophie actually respected her. Maybe that was what she needed.

He pulled her hair, and Tony winced unconsciously. There was an unspoken connection between Tony and this woman. Hasad had killed Ziva. He was the reason everything had gone wrong. The reason Sophie had always had to run…he took another long sip, wincing as the liquid slid down his throat, burning it and making him forget, for just a second. Things had turned out better than he had imagined. At least for now.

He almost felt as if the woman wouldn't want a lot of people to see them. And he had the week off. So he'd broken the chain of evidence, and taken them before Abby could see them. He couldn't just sit around and do nothing for a whole week. He could tell she was crying, and he felt dread pool in his stomach. The place had been incinerated. So where was she? Hasad's bones were there, evidence of the murder Nate had seen the mystery woman commit, her hair flying around her face in matted and oily clumps as she stepped away quickly, covered in his blood. But that was the only camera. The tape ended and went grey afterwards. So that was the bulk of the evidence.

11 years. His mind went automatically back to Ziva, and the look in her eyes while they were in MTAC, her desperation that she'd masked so well as she blinked SOS at them, attempting to get them to see that something was wrong. That was 11 years ago. He frowned, and shook his head, taking another sip of his drink. That was too much to hope for. What would he say to her if she were here? He wasn't sure if he would yell? Kiss her? Hug her? Cry? It had been so long since he'd seen her; truly talked to her…his mind flew back to the week before she had vanished. She'd been more emotional than he ever remembered being. She was crying at hallmark commercials, and was very touchy about everything. He'd mocked her mercilessly, not realizing that this was the end.

_It had been a somewhat normal day. They'd wrapped up a kidnapping case, and Ziva had apprehended the kidnapper as she always did. She was fiercer this time though, very angry at the woman that had kidnapped two small girls, the daughters of a Marine and his wife who had been murdered days prior. The girls had been adorable, and Tony couldn't help thinking what it would be like to have children with Ziva, small little movie quoting bundles of energy that would be black belts by the time they were seven. Gibbs had let them home early, and he'd found Ziva crying in the parking garage, leaning against his car, a piece of paper held tightly in her fist. He hadn't asked questions, just opened the door for her and let her go inside. They'd been driving to work together for the past week because her Cooper was in the shop, and she slid into the passenger seat with ease, placing the paper in her purse and refusing to meet his eyes. _

"_So…you were kind of emotional today…"he ventured, once they were settled at his place, Ziva in his sweats, swimming in gray cotton, and Tony in pajama bottoms and an OSU tee shirt, waiting for the pizza to come. _

"_Please stop making fun of me for crying! I do not know what has come over me, but that is certainly no excuse for you to-"his face softened at the look on hers. They'd been watching The Notebook again, at her insistence. Tony wasn't incredibly fond of the movie, but Ziva loved it. She'd cried more than usual…not that her crying at all was the usual. But tears were welling in her eyes again and Tony had to fight the urge to pressure her. Because something else was wrong. Something that didn't have anything to do with the case. She looked torn, conflicted, pissed off, angry. He couldn't pinpoint the look on her face but it was obvious that his teasing was cutting her more deeply than she'd initially been letting on. He held his arms out to her, and she rolled her eyes. _

"_I'm sorry, Zee…commere," she crossed her arms, staring at him in defiance, her lower lip jutted out," You're just…I've never seen you this emotional before…"she scooted closer to him reluctantly, laying her head on his shoulder, turning to place her legs over his lap and putting an arm around his waist. _

"_You cold?" she nodded, and he pulled a blanket over them as she relaxed against his chest," I'm sorry I made fun of you for crying…it wasn't very nice," he said into her hair, and her hold tightened against him momentarily before she leant back slightly. She opened her mouth to say something, but then they were interrupted. _

_She didn't have time to respond, because the doorbell rang, breaking the silence that was thick between them. Ziva got up and paid for the pizza, and grabbed them both a beer and two slices, sitting back down on Tony's lap and placing their food on the coffee table in front of them. _

_They ate in silence, watching the rest of the film, Ziva's occasional sniffles almost startling Tony. _

_Once they were done, she cleaned up mindlessly, still sniffling from the crying she'd done earlier. Tony opened his mouth to say something, and closed it at the look on her face. It was almost murderous. But it didn't seem directed at him at all. She sat back down on his lap, snuggling against him again, her head on his shoulder. _

"_I am a woman, Tony. It does happen occasionally," she had responded finally, staring up at him, her big brown eyes incredibly wide and vulnerable. _

_He wanted to tell her that everything was going to be fine. But he wasn't sure she would believe him. _

"_You know I love you, right?" he breathed, and she nodded uncertainly, her eyes tearing up again. _

"_I am sorry, I cannot stop crying I do not know why," she explained, although her eyes went down at her last admission. Why couldn't she look him in the eyes? _

"_I love you," he had repeated softly, and her nose wrinkled in confusion for a moment, her eyes locked on his again. _

"_I love you too," she whispered, her mind someplace else, surprised when he leant forward and kissed he forehead gently. _

"_You're beautiful," he reminded her, and her face brightened with color, rose spots appearing on her cheeks. _

"_You do not have to butter me up, you know," she whispered, her voice dejected, and he smiled. _

"_You got that idiom right," he teased softly, his finger under her chin, lifting her face to be level with his. _

"_I know," she said miserably, tears still pouring down her cheeks. Tony was quite sure that he'd never seen her look more beautiful. _

_He hadn't been able to stop himself from kissing her, tasting the salt of her tears on his lips. She had clung to him desperately, even before they'd made it to the bedroom and removed their clothing. He'd lifted her up easily, their lips meeting slowly and languidly as they made their way down the short hallway to his bedroom. _

_She'd only let go of him to remove her shirt and bra, her body relaxing slightly as he finally settled on top of her, her fingers working on the buttons of his shirt. The lovemaking session had increased in intensity from that point on, and Tony had no idea what was going on in Ziva's mind. _

_He of course, had never minded sleeping with her. He loved it. She tended to use it as a way to work out her aggression, and he liked to think that he might have taught her how to not do that as often. Tony was often more spontaneous about it, whereas she needed a reason. But the way she was sleeping with him now was scaring him. She was angry, full of anguish for some reason, and none of it was directed at Tony at all. It was like she was going through the motions, small gasps escaping her throat as they finally came together, her eyes meeting Tony's dazedly. _

"_I wasn't aware that we had such a rough day," he managed softly, and she rolled away from him, crossing her arms over her chest and shivering slightly. _

"_Zee?"he breathed tentatively, reaching out a hand to touch her shoulder, and she flinched. What was going on with her?_

_She rolled over to face him, and the sight almost broke his heart. She was shaking, trying not to cry too hard. _

"_Ziva…did I hurt you?" he asked softly, and she shook her head, looking nothing like the strong and independent woman Tony had fallen in love with. _

"_Why are you crying?" he asked gently, and she shrunk away from him for a moment, her expression unreadable. And then her face crumpled, sobs escaping her quickly, her chest heaving. _

"_Bec-Because I am happy," she sobbed, her face red and blotchy, and he frowned. _

"_Why on earth-"she had gotten up before he had realized it, and gone into the bathroom, shutting the door behind her and leaning against it, her sobs very audible through the wood. _

"_Ziva…baby. Let me in, Please," he'd pleaded, and she'd finally opened the door, her eyes meeting his. She looked defeated, and didn't resist when he picked her up again, cradling her against him as he walked back to the bed. _

"_I'm so sorry, Tony," she hiccupped, her words muffled by his chest," I'm so, so sorry," she repeated, and he frowned, not sure what to say back to her. _

"_Ziva, you're scaring me," he whispered, as her sobs intensified. It was obvious he wasn't going to get anything out of her now. She was traumatized. He wondered briefly what could have caused this, and couldn't come up with an answer. He'd been with her all day. _

"_Come on, Zee. Let's get you into bed…it's okay," he'd lifted her lithe frame up and settled them both under the covers, Ziva still clinging to him like a spider monkey, her head on his chest as she cried, mumbling how sorry she was over and over again. _

"_What's this about?" he breathed, once her crying and stopped. She must have run out of tears because she was still shaking in his arms. _

"_I…"she trailed off, looking uncertain, and then shook her head," I am fine…"_

"_Ziva…"he pressed, staring down at her, and she realized a second later that she had fallen asleep, her hair sprawled across his chest as she slept, her face still crumpled in that look he couldn't place. _

_She'd acted like the whole incident hadn't happened the next morning, and it was clear to Tony that she didn't want to discuss it at all. It was Saturday, and he was leaving for two weeks with Gibbs to help with a case in New York City involving the multiple murders of Navy and Marine personnel officers that were on leave. _

"_Are you sure you're-"she shot him a look, and he sighed, catching the bag of toiletries she tossed to him. She was much better at packing than he was. He put it in his bag, and walked over to her, standing behind her at the window, his arms encircling her waist and his chin on her shoulder. _

"_Ziva we're going to have to talk about it…"he said, his fingers skimming her arm. _

"_Not now. Please," she said softly, her head leaning back into his chest. She turned and hugged him tighter then she had the day before, fighting back tears again. _

"_Hey.."He pulled back slightly, staring down at her strangely," Nott that I'm complaining at these outward displays of affection….its only two weeks, Zee. I'll be back before you know it…"she nodded, staring up at him silently. He brushed a stray tear off of her cheek, and she leant into his hand, savoring the contact. _

"_You want to stay here?" she nodded silently, and he pulled her into a hug again. _

"_I'll be back before you know it, okay?" he pecked her on the lips, and she pulled him in tighter, the kiss becoming more intense. They broke for breath two minutes later. _

"_No matter what happens, I love you," she said softly, her hand lingering on his cheek. _

"_What's going to happen?" he asked," You're safe…you passed your citizenship test last week…"she nodded, faking her sense of calm for his sake. _

"_I know," she breathed finally, leaning up to kiss him quickly," Call me when you get settled in?" she added, and Tony nodded. _

"_I will when I can get away from Gibbs…okay?" she nodded. _

"_Have a safe flight," she breathed, her fingers squeezing his tightly. _

"_I love you," Tony had responded, and she smiled. But it wasn't a real smile. _

"_I love you too, Tony," she'd managed, her eyes bright. He'd just assumed she was being emotional again. But that was far from it. She hadn't answered his house or her cell phone when he called. And when he tried again, it was disconnected. Getting a moment alone had taken longer than he had expected. _

_So he'd texted McGee, making up some lie about forgetting to tell Ziva to feed their fish, and when he'd gotten to the apartment, all of her belongings were gone. He'd told Tony this in a low voice, and Tony's jaw had dropped in such an obvious way that Gibbs just had to ask him what was wrong. _

_Everything was gone. The only thing that remained were the few photos from their short time together. It was if she had never come back. They had video of her walking out of the apartment complex, and then everything went black. Tony was completely in shock at that point. _

She'd almost told him. That had to have been why. He didn't realize that until now. He'd been so blinded by his confusion, and then anger at her when he realized that she had left voluntarily, hadn't felt the need to contact anyone…

He didn't' realize the tears were running down his face until she said something. She'd apparently had a nightmare again, and was standing in the doorway to her room, her eyes locked on him, her IV stand holding her steady.

"Tony?" she questioned hesitantly, and his eyes met hers.

"Hey," his voice was gruff, and he realized instantly that he'd been crying. He wiped his eyes quickly, and she noticed, her face softening slightly. He glanced over at Jeanne, who was very asleep, and got up from the chair, glass still in hand. He motioned to her room, and she nodded, following him inside and closing the door behind them.

"Tony?" she asked again, and he shook his head.

"I was just…thinking,"he breathed finally, sinking onto the edge of the bed, his thoughts jumbled.

"About Mom?" she ventured quietly, and he nodded, taking another sip, wincing slightly. He jumped slightly at the hand on his shoulder.

"I miss her too," she said, when he turned and his eyes met hers.

"Sometimes I'm not sure how to feel about it. I spent the last 18 years…trying to forget her…"he trailed off when Sophie winced.

"I think that was what she intended," Sophie responded softly," I do not think she wanted you to dwell on it. On her, the past…"she trailed off, and he scooted up on the bed, glancing over at her.

"Did you know I even-"he didn't realize how angry he sounded until she shrunk back unconsciously.

"She had a picture of you…but I didn't…she kept it hidden very well," Sophie said finally, staring at his face and waiting for his reaction. This was the last thing either of them wanted for her. 17, already far too experienced with every bad thing life had to offer. She'd killed two men, at least, and was petrified of attempting to be a normal teenager. Until today, she'd never been to a mall. She'd never been to a movie theater, never been in a public school.

"You didn't get to be a kid, did you?" he said, his voice thick with emotion. Sophie frowned, scooting closer to him.

"Tony, it is fine. I am here, now," she reminded him, and he shook his head.

"If I would have known you…. all I ever wanted for any child I ever had was for them to just get to be normal…to have a childhood…Ziva and I never got that…"

"It is never too late to try, yes?" Sophie said hopefully, and Tony cracked a small grin.

"I'm sure we'll figure something out, Soph," he breathed, and she swallowed, staring at him.

"Tony?"She asked a second later, once they had settled back into silence.

"Yeah?" he asked, pulling the throw at the foot of the bed over himself, Sophie leaning against him, her face tilting towards his.

"Will you tell me more stories about mom tomorrow?" Sophie whispered, her eyes glassy.

Tony cleared his throat, trying to get the emotion out of it, and swallowed thickly.

"Okay," he breathed, smoothing Sophie's hair down," Just try and get some sleep," he was out before he'd even realized it, his fingers still threaded through her hair as she slept against him.

"_Stop being such a baby," she informed him, once she'd gotten him up the stairs and into his apartment, letting him recline on his large sofa as she searched for the pain medication. _

"_If I remember correctly, David, you were the one that had to make sure I was alright! It's a wonder I am after that car ride!" Tony slurred, holding a hand to his skull. _

"_Stop staring at my ass, Tony," she responded, bent over her purse, looking for the right bottle. _

"_What?" he asked dazedly, and she laughed, handing him the pills, which he took quickly, laying back on the couch. _

"_You need to sit up. Dr. Mallard did not want you passing out on me," she informed him, coming to sit behind him and letting him lean against her small frame, her arms wrapping around his waist to hoist him up slightly so he was upright again. _

"_I'm like twice your size," he informed her," How in the heck are you so strong?", she shrugged slightly, turning around and leaning her back against his chest. Neither one of them failed to realize that this was exactly the situation they had been in before. Ziva shivered unconsciously, and he frowned. _

"_I was worried about you…I have never done that before…been worried about someone other than myself on a mission," she said softly. _

"_Well I'm glad to know you at least cared," he responded sarcastically, turning back to stare at her face, which had an unreadable expression on it. His back was hot where was touching hers, and the painkillers were taking effect faster than he anticipated. He was only slightly woozy now._

"_Can you manage to hold yourself upright? I need a drink," she informed him, and he nodded, watching her walk towards the kitchen and find two glasses and a bottle, which wasn't hard to do. _

_She walked back over to him and this time moved his legs. He stared at her indignantly until she sat, her legs over his lap and leant against him easily, like they had been doing it for years. _

"_That is better. I could not see you before," she said, and Tony stared at her, flabbergasted at how close they were. He had to do something silly otherwise he might kiss her again. And that would be bad. Gibbs would know. _

_It amazed him how Ziva just did everything. It would appear to most that she was spontaneous, but Tony knew after spending the weekend with her that it was anything but. She was doing this for a reason. Was she flirting with him? Oh God. This was not good. He'd realized earlier in the weekend that he had no self-control when it came to her. _

"_Do you think they bought it?" he teased, and she stuck her tongue out of at him, getting the bottle and taking a small swig from it, handing it to him. He repeated the action, and met her eyes. She took another small sip from it, and leant against his chest slightly, corking the bottle and setting it down next to them. _

"_Did they say how long you were going to be here for?" he asked her a few moments later, and she shrugged, her eyes distant. _

"_I asked for this assignment. So I am not sure," she told him, and he frowned. Why had she wanted to get away so badly? She wasn't talking about it, at any rate. _

"_Months? Years? I do not know," she added, her breath tickling the side of his neck as she spoke. _

"_Well you're a good partner," he mused, and she squinted at him, trying to analyze what he meant. _

"_Are you complimenting me?" she questioned strangely, and he nodded. Crap. He had to control himself. It was a good thing she wasn't sitting directly on him. He tried to think of anything but how good she looked in her jeans and green sweater, her brown eyes flecked with gold staring up at him, her nose wrinkled adorably, and he couldn't help himself from responding honestly. Despite how strong she appeared, she was obviously fragile. _

"_Yeah, I am. You had my back," he told her, and she frowned, glancing down for a moment. When he caught her gaze again, it was filled with emotion. She'd looked so young when she arrived. But right now she didn't at all. She'd experienced much more than he initially had thought. _

"_You could have died…honestly it was all I could think about while he was taking me upstairs, Tony," she said softly, and he bit his lip, forgetting about the cut there, and winced. She reached up her fingers, and ran across the cut gently. He caught her hand in his, and she stared down at it for a moment. _

"_I was worried about you too," he told her, and she sighed, squinting. It was obvious that she was angry with herself for feeling anything. _

"_Is that the typical reaction to something like this? Worry?" she questioned, her eyes coming up to meet his again. He gulped, staring at the slight sheen in her eyes. _

"_Ziva,"he breathed, and she glanced down at his lips. She was not helping matters either. _

_Their lips touched hesitantly, and then all of the sudden, it had nothing to do with being hesitant at all. His hands came up to lift her slightly, setting her down so that her legs straddled his, Ziva on her knees on the couch, and her hands came up to rest in his hair, massaging his scalp and at the same time pulling him even closer. Her lips parted his easily, and their tongues fought for dominance. _

_Tony was amazed at how right it still felt. Before they were working. Now…it was entirely something else, and it was even better than the weekend. They were kissing much more passionately than they had in the hotel, and the only thing stopping Tony from taking it further was a nagging thought in the back of his head. Rule #12. This could end so badly. _

_She let out a breathy moan, pulling back slightly to regain her bearings, and Tony stared at her through a haze of lust. The moan was the sexiest thing he'd ever heard in his entire life. And Tony had had his fill of women. But Ziva was something else. Something else entirely. _

"_Can you stand?" she questioned softly, her breath hot against his earlobe, and he nodded, getting to his feet, and accepting her small hand in his, walking her towards the bedroom, his thumb tracing circles over the back of her hand as they walked into the bedroom. She stopped, and he walked into her slightly, kissing the side of her neck as she unzipped the sweater, shrugging it off her shoulders to reveal a singlet underneath, white against her bronzed olive skin, her red bra peeking above the cotton. He glanced at their reflection in the mirror, and she met his gaze, leaning her head back to kiss him softly, pulling her hair out of its clip and letting the curls tumble down her shoulders. _

_She smelled like spices, cinnamon, nutmeg, and just a hint of vanilla. And him. She also smelled like him. She turned around slowly, walking him backwards towards his bed as Tony admired her confidence in the situation. When girls were at his place, he usually took all the reigns. They were unsure. But she was anything but. She pushed him slightly so that he was sitting down, and lifted his arms up, pulling off the slightly bloodstained sweater he'd been wearing gently and tossing it on the floor. Both in their undershirts, they stared at each other, Ziva standing between his legs. _

"_Are you sure you're…up to this?" she chose her words carefully. It was obvious that Gibbs would not approve of it. She was really not in the mood to care in the moment. Something about the weekend had caused her to feel like she had to know what it would be like. Because if she didn't…there would always be a tension. _

"_I think this might be a once in a lifetime opportunity, and I'd like to relish the mo-"the knock on the door surprised them, and Ziva's eyes widened. _

"_Shit,"she breathed, and pulled her singlet on, pulling Tony to his feet and starting to shove him towards his bathroom door. _

"_Pretend like you are taking a shower, I will-"_

"_Tony?" it was McGee, and Abby's voice followed._

""_Tony! Are you alive in there? She didn't kill you on the way home, right?" he shot her a sympathetic look, and she shook her head, her eyes a very dark brown as she stared up at him. _

"_I'm sorry," he breathed softly," Maybe-"she shook her head. _

"_It is fine," she said, walking past him to turn on the shower. _

"_Ziva?" McGee called, as Tony finished undressing. _

"_Get in," she hissed, slamming the door behind him and walking down the hallway, straightening things as she went. _

_And Tony felt like an idiot. They never spoke of it. Ziva tended to be the person that took things for what they were, and did not ignore the signs. So, to her, Abby and McGee showing up had been a sign that this should not be happening. _

_They didn't get a real chance for years, and then it was almost too late. _

Tony awoke with a start, making Sophie jump slightly.

"Sorry," he whispered, smoothing her hair back down as she fell back asleep. She mumbled something incoherently, and pulled the blankets closer. The sun was just peaking over the horizon, and Tony stared at it in interest for a moment.

"You think she's watching us?" he asked Sophie softly, and Sophie stared up at him sleepily.

"I am sure of it…."she squinted for a moment, and smiled softly,"Dad,"she added quietly, and Tony felt his chest tighten slightly, and pulled her closer, kissing her temple softly.

"I love you," he told her, and she glanced up at him.

"I know," she responded knowingly, yawning.

"You want to get some more sleep? I can make us pancakes…"she nodded, staring up at him as he got to his feet, amazed that she'd been able to do it so quickly, call him Dad. It just…felt comfortable. Like using his…their last name, like letting him kiss her on the forehead and tell her stories about Ziva. She closed her eyes and relaxed back into the pillows, her mind falling back into a memory once again.

_It was hot. Hot… and humid, and it took Sophie a moment to realize where she was. She was knee deep in a pool, surrounded by lush green plants, giggling hysterically as the water soaked into the bottom of her dress. _

"_Sophia Daniela David! What have I told you about swimming in there?" her mother's voice was firm, but there was a teasing light in her eyes. Sophie squeaked when Ziva jumped into the small pool next to her, covering her with water. _

"_That I should not. But it is so hot outside! And this is fun," Sophie told her matter of factly, crossing her arms, hair matted to her forehead. _

"_What is fun is not always right, Fia,"she reminded her, and Sophie frowned. _

"_I am sorry," she said, and Ziva nodded, helping her out of the pool and sizing her up," That Grandpa does not like us in here…because the bio-biome…"she searched for the right word, and Ziva corrected her. _

"_Biometrics, sweetie," Ziva said, and Sophie nodded, crawling out of the pool behind Ziva, who was now also wet, her work clothes covered in water and dirt from the winds outside. _

"_Yes, that, the Biometrics…are a secret," she finished with flourish, grinning up at Ziva and holding her hands up to be picked up. Ziva rolled her eyes. She was such a charmer, even at such a young age it was obvious she'd fly through life getting just what she wanted. _

"_You are going to be very tall…"she informed her simply, crossing her arms and scrutinizing her. Sophie frowned, confused, and stared at her mother, who was staring at her like she was a painting or something, just studying her. _

"_But you're short! Why wont I be?" Sophie had asked softly, confused. She hadn't understood any of it at such a young age. Sophie's life had consisted of badgering her mother with questions, reading as much as possible, dancing, and taking a variety of different languages. Ziva immediately got that look in her eyes again. _

"_Because your father is very, very tall, Sophia,"Ziva had said softly, stroking her hair and trying to tread careful. He had always been a sore subject. Sophie asked questions about him weekly, trying to get Ziva to say anything about him. And even though it had been years since she'd left that life, it still stung. _

"_Daddy?' she'd questioned softly, and Ziva shook her head yes. _

"_Yeah, sweetheart, your daddy," Ziva whispered, ruffling her wet hair. Sophie was mad. Every time he came up, she would not tell her anything about him. Where was he? Did he even care about her at all? About her mother?_

"_Daddy didn't want me. That's what Grandpa said,"Ziva's face had darkened considerably before she knelt down to be at Sophie's level. _

"_Sweetie, I need you to listen to me, okay?" Sophie nodded, her lower lip jutted out and her bright blonde hair, which had yet to darken sticking out in all directions. Tears were clinging to her eyelashes, and it was clear her mother wasn't pleased. _

"_Okay," she whispered, staring up at her mother's face expectantly. _

"_Your daddy…couldn't' be here. And it doesn't mean he didn't want you, baby, okay?" Sophie frowned, glaring at her mother. She knew more than she was letting on. This was more than she'd ever heard about him. She'd heard Ziva say a name in her sleep, Tony. She knew he was one of the characters in Deep Six, but not which one. _

"_Why couldn't he be here?" she whispered, and Ziva closed her eyes tightly for a moment. This was going to crush her. If everything happened like she thought it would, then Sophie could not hate Tony. It would ruin everything. _

"_Because I could not let him, Sophia,"Ziva winced immediately after her confession. _

"_Daddy's not here because you wont let him be here?" she asked, her lower lip trembling, and Ziva nodded slowly. _

_Why wouldn't she want him around Sophie? She obviously loved him. Not that Sophie had any idea of what real love was, how complicated it was. _

"_I…I hate you!" Sophie had yelled at her, running into the house and towards her Grandpa, who had picked her up, realizing she was soaked again. _

"_Sophia, what have I told you about the pool in the greenhouse?" Eli David had questioned, his anger faltering slightly at the sudden sobs that came out of her mouth. He paused, and then held her close, rubbing her back gently. _

"_Sophie!" Ziva came flying around the corner, sliding to a stop at the sight of her, her eyes narrowing. The great man, saving his grand-daughter. He was such a bastard. She bit her lip, staring at the exchange, her arms crossed. _

"_What is wrong, little one?" Eli had asked her, and she'd hiccupped slightly. _

"_I want my daddy," Sophie had said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world, sniffling, her eyes wide and red from tears. Ziva had tears in her eyes as well, and took a step towards them. Sophie had heard her, and turned to glare at her, her chin wobbly. _

"_Sophie-" _

"_He's not here and it's all her fault!" she said, her confusion and anger getting the best of her. Ziva looked like she'd been punched in the stomach. Sophie had hopped down before Eli could stop her, and ran around the corner. But she could hear what they were saying from the kitchen. _

"_Would you like her to loathe us all, or do you just take pleasure in my pain, Eli?" her mother had said, her voice shaking. _

"_You will understand, Ziva. I needed you here. Especially now," her grandfather had responded, his tone somber. _

"_I'm sure that was the most convenient for you. Tell me, Director David, do you plan on using your granddaughter as a pawn as well?" Ziva had said bitingly, and Sophie heard the audible sound of a slap. _

_She'd walked back to their apartment by herself, and numb, almost, though she wasn't entirely sure what that feeling consisted of yet. Everyone at dance class had a daddy. Everyone that she went to school with had a daddy. So why couldn't she? Ten minutes later, Ziva had come flying up the stairs and into their bedroom, her hair flying around everywhere, fury in her face. _

"_Where the hell have you been?" Ziva had yelled," You should not be walking around by yourself! What if something had happened to you?" Sophie had shrunk back, crossing her arms and staring at her mother defiantly until she saw the tears in her eyes. Her mother was shaking. She wasn't sure if it was from rage or something else, but a bruise was blossoming beneath her cheek, and tears were streaming down her face. _

"_It is not safe, Sophie! I don't know how I would survive if something had happened to you!" Ziva yelled, which caused Sophie to cry as well. Her face crumpled, and Ziva's softened slightly. She took a step towards her, and Sophie hugged her leg tightly. _

"_I was not thinking. I am sorry," Sophie hiccupped, surprised when Ziva picked her up, staring at her straight in the eye. _

"_There are people out there who want to hurt us, Sophie…especially me…and a way of doing that is through you. You must be careful, my love," Ziva breathed, hugging her against her, shaking slightly from relief. _

"_Is it because I look different?" Sophie had questioned, referring to her slightly lighter skin and blonde hair. Ziva had only held her tighter. _

"_Something like that," she'd responded softly, kissing the top of her head. _

"_Is that why daddy isn't here?" she'd ventured quietly. The look on her mother's face was so full of anguish that Sophie had hugged her tightly again. _

"_It's not safe for him is it? Someone's after him?" Sophie breathed," Like spy stuff? Like what you do?" she pressed, and Ziva closed her eyes tightly. Sophie wouldn't and couldn't understand how complicated this was until she was older. _

"_It is not safe. Not for any of us…"Ziva explained softly, and Sophie pulled back, reaching a hand up to touch her cheek, which was already showing the effects of the bruising. _

"_Grandpa hit you…why did he do that?" Sophie whispered, her head tilted to the side. _

"_He doesn't understand me any longer…you will learn that understanding…is everything in time. You understand?" Sophie nodded. _

"_Yes," Sophie said softly, relaxing as Ziva started to sing her a French Lullaby, pulling a blanket over them and their still damp bodies. _

"_How much do you love me?" Sophie asked hesitantly, glancing up at Ziva, who smiled down at her, running a finger down her cheek. _

"_To the moon and back,"Ziva responded," Sleep, love…I will make dinner in a few hours," Sophie had consented, falling asleep comfortably across her mothers chest. She never noticed that Ziva had started crying the minute she had closed her eyes. _

"Sophie?" her eyes had snapped open, and she realized they were moist.

"I need to shower," she mumbled, getting up and waiting patiently while Jeanne undid her IV.

"There are towels by the sink," she told her, and Sophie nodded, her mind somewhere else.

She grabbed the robe they'd bought yesterday and padded towards the bathroom, her eyes straying to Tony, who was trying to figure out the griddle, busily working in the kitchen. He stopped suddenly, and turned to face her, his gaze concerned.

"You alright?" he asked, and she shot him a sad look, going into the bathroom and closing the door.

"Burn," Abby muttered from where she was slicing bread for toast, and he shot her a look.

"She is a teenager. I would assume she's just really really moody," Jeanne noted from where she was cutting oranges to squeeze juice," Tony do you have that maple extract?" his eyes lit up slightly.

"Homemade syrup?" he questioned, and she nodded, taking the extract he handed her. Abby stared at them in interest for a moment before getting back to the toast.

"You want everyone to come up here? Tim's at work but Will and Jessie are watching a movie in the living room…"Abby said, and Tony frowned as the shower turned off.

Sophie emerged a second later, her hair in a turban and avoiding their eyes, walking quickly back towards her bedroom.

"Um…Jeanne…"he motioned to her retreating form, and Jeanne nodded.

"Be right back…can you put the sugar and water on to boil and add…"

"A half a teaspoon of cinnamon, I know," he told her as she got to the door and opened it cautiously.

"Did you know my mother?" Sophie asked quietly, her back to Jeanne.

"I saw her once or twice, when I was giving statements at NCIS…but I never spoke to her…she was always next to Tony though, encouraging him, protecting him…" Jeanne said softly, and Sophie tried to muffle a sob with the back of her hand.

"None of this is fair…the past is consuming both of our lives…"Sophie whispered softly," All I do is dream about my mother, and all he does is think about her constantly…"

"You had a dream?" Sophie nodded slowly.

"Why don't you tell me about it?" Jeanne ventured, sitting down on the edge of the bed, and Sophie sighed, sinking onto the bed and turning to face her, crossing her legs.

"I was little…. and my grandfather had a green house…and I used to go in the pool in the summer because it was so hot and dry…and I wasn't supposed to…because it was…"her eyes narrowed for a moment, and then widened in surprise.

She was up and out of the bedroom, walking towards the kitchen before Jeanne could even realize she'd had a Eureka moment.

"Dad…"she said, and his head snapped up.

"You okay?" he asked, and she nodded, avoiding Jeanne's eyes. Her eyes were on Tony's. He looked haggard. He couldn't handle this. She wasn't sure she could. Her hands had started to shake slightly.

"Sophie?" Jeanne questioned, and she shot her a look, clearly stating that she'd ask Tony about it later. She was itching to ask him, but for now she'd keep it to herself. She sat down at the table and took the glass of juice that Abby handed her silently, their eyes locking for a moment. It was silly. There were ways around that weren't there? Wouldn't he have found a way around it? Her mind continued to mull over the details. She needed to figure it out. It wasn't worth the pain to hope that any of her family was still alive besides her father. Now wasn't the time. She'd ask him about it later.

**Soooo....Im sure that maybe one of you knows what that Eureka moment was about. Hahha. Question and answer time! Ask me a question, and I'll answer...somewhat evasively...but all the same I'll post the q's and a's in the authors note before the next chappy.**

**See that little read and review button? USE IT. **

**ha.**

**-Jena**


	19. part 10 1 of 2

Catch Me If you can

Jena Rink

March 23, 2010

AN- Again, sorry its been taking so long to get these out. They get more and more complicated as the chapters ware on, obviously. So its almost like I have to spend more and more time, and time is really not something I have on my side at this point. Case and point: We sold our house, I'm in the process of moving from New Mexico to Oregon, and I'm currently in a hotel room in Ventura Beach, California, editing and posting this. Italics are flashbacks. It should be easy to tell who is experiencing said flashbacks. There is French poetry in this, but I don't have enough access to my computer to remember the names of the poets. I will post them in the next posting. I don't own NCIS. Sadly. Let me know what you think of this. And thanks for being so patient with me!

-Jena

_Her skirts flew around her as she ran. She was six. Her hair was back in a bun, despite its crazy curly unruliness, something that was untamable, especially in the dry heat of Israel and before the times of hair straighteners. Her curls strained to escape the bun in her hair as she ran towards her brother, laughing, her eyes bright with mirth as he lifted her up. _

"_So?" she asked, cocking her head to the side," How was I?" _

"_Wonderful, Ziva,"Ari said, hugging her close, lifting her up and twirling her around. She giggled. He was her source of encouragement these days. She was young, but not stupid. Ziva had never been stupid. Her mother often said that she'd come out of the womb analyzing everything around her, always with questions. Her father only said it would come to suit her later in life, if she chose to use her talents correctly. That should have been her first clue that her father only believed she existed as a use to him, to carry out his every political and strategical whim. She was merely a tool in the scheme of Eli David's life. _

"_Is mama here?" she questioned, and he shook his head. _

"_She is still on bed rest, little one," he ruffled her hair, and a curl escaped. Ziva stuck her tongue out at him. _

"_She would like some ice cream, if you'd like to bring it to her," Ziva nodded, her legs settled around Ari's waist as he held her upwards, navigating her through the theater's lobby and out the door towards a waiting car. _

"_Abba could not make it?" she asked, her voice ever hopeful that maybe one day her question would be answered that he had come to one of her recitals, whether it was piano, violin, or ballet. _

"_He does not like ballet, Ziva…"Ari reminded her softly," But I was there, and that is what is important," he added, as she crossed her arms, staring sulkily out the window of the Mercedes as they prepared to leave. The chauffer, Miri, moved to close the door, and she winked at him. He winked back, and took a lollipop out of his pocket, handing it to her. She grinned, turning back to Ari, who was watching the scene with interest. She was quite aware that she was very good at the art of persuasion. She could get anything she wanted if she tried hard enough. _

"_Abba does not like anything unless it involves work," she informed Ari, who bit back a laugh, staring at her in astonishment. _

"_You do not miss anything do you?" he asked her, and she shrugged, leaning back in the seat. She didn't expect the bullet to pierce the window, not shattering it due to the protections place on it. It was the first time she'd seen a bullet at all. She screamed suddenly, flinging herself at Ari as the shots continued. She'd heard the bang. The shot, she realized as a teen, had not been the first aimed at the car. Miri had fallen against the door, his eyes glazed over. Dead, and she had screamed. _

"_Ziva, get down…you must listen to me," he told her. He was not scared. Ari was never scared. He pulled them down to the foot area as the shots continued, the driver speeding up and making a number of turns, trying to lose their tail. She had started crying at some point, Miri's face etched forever in her memory. The lollipop never left her hand, despite her inner agony. _

"_Mr. Haswari, stay down!" Ziva had squeaked suddenly, her face buried in Ari's chest as they rounded corner after corner, her stomach churning. She felt sick. When they finally came to a stop, she was still crying. _

"_Ari?" she asked hesitantly, and he lifted her up. They were home. Inside. Safe? It was the first time, even at such a young age, that Ziva realized that no one was ever truly safe. He opened the door, and she saw the blood on the side of the car, her eyes widening in fear. _

"_We have to get him!" she told Ari, her entire body shaking as she was lifted up. She didn't understand why they had left him. Why he had not been safe. _

"_Ziva we cannot…it is not safe…they will look for his body in the morning," a fresh wave of tears hit her, and she wailed into his suit coat as he carried her inside, leaving the damaged car in the garage. _

_It was not the first person she had lost, rather the first person she had seen die. She was white as a sheet, her skin clammy, as Ari carried her upstairs. _

"_Ziva,"he whispered, carrying her into her room and stripping off her costume, carrying her to the bathroom and turning on the bath, smoothing her hair back and prying the lollipop from her hands despite her protests," Come on…"he lifted her up and set her in the warm water as she continued to cry, her sobs echoing off of the tiled walls as he washed her hair and body. _

_She dimly realized he was lifting her from the water and placing a towel around her. He combed her hair out, found her pajamas, and slipped them over her head, sitting her on the edge of the bed, where she continued to sniffle. _

"_I just had talked to him, Ari, and then he was just…gone,"Ziva sniffled, and he ran a hand across her cheek. _

"_The world is a horrible place," he informed her softly, leaning forward to kiss her forehead. _

"_How do you make it less horrible?" she'd whispered back, like she was gaining the answer to a long lost secret. His answer was something she never forgot, even when she had to kill him all those years later. _

"_You fight it, little one. You fight it until you do not have anything left."_

* * *

_The first time she was aware of her surroundings was on a plane, her body strapped down to a bed, a mask on her face. She squirmed, her face contorting into pain as her body tried to move even the slightest inch. She didn't know how she realized she was even in the air. The windows…she remembered them, but the memory as to how was lost to her all-together. Searching for a meaning behind the association just drew up a blank. She saw someone approaching the bed, and fought back the urge to scream. _

"_Sweetheart you need to relax," It was a nurse. But she was still scared. She removed the mask carefully, leaving the little girl in the bed alone, realizing how many casts she was wearing. _

"_Where am I?" she managed, her voice hoarse. _

"_Sweetheart, you were in an accident," she frowned. What accident? Her breathing quickened. What had happened? She felt like she should be worried about someone, something, but couldn't bring herself to care about it because she couldn't associate it with anything but darkness. _

"_You don't remember? Can you tell me your name?" The girl's eyes widened as she realized she was completely lost as to everything but the basics. Her lower lip started shaking as she fought the urge to start crying. It was useless. _

"_No," she whispered, staring at the nurse, tears rapidly filling her eyes. _

"_Honey I'm going to go and get Tobias, okay? He can talk with you," she nodded carefully, wincing at the pain in her neck. When the man walked in later, she realized how official he looked. Like a…lawyer or something. He had a badge, and he sat next to her bed, grabbing her hand lightly in his. _

"_Your name is Kelly…you're in the custody of the Federal government so that we can keep you safe," Kelly frowned. But where was her family? Didn't everyone have a family?_

"_Safe from what?" she asked, her voice soft. _

"_There are people…that want to hurt you, Kelly. And especially with you having no memory of the event…we had to get you out of the United States. I know this is difficult to adjust to. I know you're scared," he said softly, and she closed her eyes tightly. _

"_She said I was in an accident…I can't drive…can I? So who-"_

"_I'm sorry but your mother was lost in the crash…" his eyes were sympathetic, but Kelly was almost horrified to realize she had no memories of her mother. Nothing. No hugs, kisses on the cheek, songs before bed. _

"_Do I have a father?" she ventured, her heart pounding inside his chest. She knew she did. But from that point on everything was a mystery. The man, Tobias, had swallowed. _

"_We can't find him…and it's not safe for either of you right now, to be honest," she closed her eyes tightly for a moment. They'd want her to be strong, right? Wasn't that the point of parents? To always want the best for you? She doubted this situation was their intention, but she would have to make the best of it. _

"_Where are you taking me?" she asked him simply. _

"_I'm sorry I can't tell you that.."A memory flashed through her mind, and she frowned," You'll bee safe. They'll put you through rehab and put you back in school…you'll live close to a normal life…"Kelly wondered what normal was. She couldn't remember. She did remember something though. It was just words, nothing else. _

"_What is it?" he asked her, and she swallowed.  
_

"_Someone told me that apologizing was a sign of weakness…"she ventured quietly. _

"_You're allowed to be weak. But you're going to need to be strong if you want to get through this," he informed her," And I'll be with you until you're settled, I promise," she managed to squeeze his hand. _

"_Thank you," she mumbled, fighting back the urge to sleep again. _

"_Go to sleep, Kelly. I'll be here when you wake up, I promise," he said, and she nodded, closing her eyes tightly. She had lived by his words. He was protective of her. She listened to his words more than she'd like to admit. _

* * *

Ziva stared at Kelly in astonishment for a moment before taking a long drink of the vodka in front of them. It was a Friday night. And they'd finally been able to sit down and go through stories again.

"And that's when you decided to join Mossad?" Kelly asked her softly;" When your brother told you that?" she tilted her head to the side, and leant back against the cushions, staring up at the ceiling.

"I do not think I ever had a choice, really. This is the first time I have ever been able to comprehend life outside of it…except for when…"she trailed off, closing her eyes tightly for a moment, and had a desperate urge to pick up Kelly's phone and call Washington, if only to hear his voice for just one moment.

"Are you alright?" Kelly asked, and Ziva nodded slowly.

"I would like to do something…"she informed Kelly, who frowned. She was aware of how stupid the idea was, but she couldn't help herself. She had to know he was all right. At least him. Just to hear his voice would essentially confirm it for her. She had always been able to tell his emotions by a single word or sentence.

"Is there a convenience store around the corner? One that sells pre paid cell phones?" Kelly nodded, staring at her strangely.

"Yeah, its still there, but you can just use my-"

"No…I can't do that. It is very possible that they could trace your phone call and come after you, and I cannot do that to you. You're more valuable than you realize," Ziva informed her, getting up and putting on her jacket," Shall I get more alcohol?" Kelly nodded, watching her leave the room and put in the necessary codes before leaving the house. The phone rang seconds later.

"Hello?" Kelly asked, leaning back against the cushions.

"Is there someone there with you?" she sighed at the familiar voice.

"No, Toby, I'm fine," she teased, trying to hide the anxiety in her voice.

"You went outside," he informed her, and she groaned.

"The cat got out. I don't know why you're so protective I can take care of myself, you know," she said, trying her best to sound normal. He was always checking up on her these days.

"I just worry," he informed her, and she closed her eyes tightly for a moment. Should she even bother asking him? She wasn't sure if he even knew anything about her parents.

"I'm alright. I promise…"

"Call me tomorrow morning," he told her, and she frowned.

"I have to go, I'm meeting a friend for dinner," Kelly hung up before he could say anything else, as Ziva opened the door.

"I brought more vodka," she held up the bag, as well as the phone, which she had almost unwrapped from the plastic surrounding it. She plugged in the phone to charge, and sat back down on the couch next to Kelly, setting the vodka down in between them, the phone resting on her lap.

"Who are you going to call?" Kelly asked, and Ziva closed her eyes tightly. Tony would have responded ghost busters. It was a long shot, if anything, that she could even get him on the phone in the first place. But what was the point in not trying? Out of all the people, she would be able to read him the best. And she knew he was alive from the pictures she'd been shown in captivity.

"Is the country code still the same for America?" she asked her, and Kelly nodded strangely, watching as Ziva stared at the phone, willing her fingers to move.

And then she couldn't stop the urge to do it. To dial it and press send. So she did. She held the phone to her ear, listening with baited breath for an answer. His answering machine would be enough. But to hear him, that would be better.

Her alcohol-ridden mind didn't even stop to consider the consequences of her actions. That she would slip and say something. That he might be able to trace the call, and then she'd be getting the full force of the United States government running after her. That a woman might answer….

The phone rang twice before she picked up. Ziva waited with baited breath, and exhaled shakily at the woman's voice that answered. Slightly accented, perky, annoyed.

"Hello, this is Director Anthony Dinozzo's phone," Sophie said easily, surprising Tony, who was currently fighting traffic on the way to work. They were late again, after Sophie had announced she wanted enrollment packets from multiple colleges and universities in the area, as well as testing dates for the ACT and SAT. Tony had denied the escort he'd been offered the moment he'd been sworn in, only saying that he'd use it if it were necessary. So they were stuck in traffic on the way to the office.

"Hello?" she asked strangely, tapping her fingers on the edge of her armrest, Tony staring at her in interest.

Well this was unexpected. Ziva was floored, staring at her reflection from the television screen. Who was this woman? She sounded like…Ziva. But it obviously was not her because she couldn't be talking to herself. Unless some sort of cloning operation had been invented in her time in captivity. She swallowed thickly, her breathing getting heavier on the line. Sophie frowned.

"Who is it?" Tony asked, tapping his fingers along to the soft beat playing on the radio.

"Whoever it is wont talk…here," she thrust the phone in his direction, going back to looking at her George Washington University pamphlets as traffic continued to not move.

"This is Tony," he said, and she could tell he was stressed. Overworked, tired, and confused. But she was still tempted to say anything to get a reaction out of him. Anything so that she would know more about what might be going on in his mind, which the girl was that answered. He was the Director of NCIS, if she'd heard the girl correctly. He hated politics.

"Hey, are you-"Kelly lent towards Ziva, and she got up, putting a hand up as she walked towards the other room.

"Hello?" he questioned strangely, and she swallowed thickly.

"Listen, lady, as creepy breathing goes, Darth Vader has got you beat. But you have me intrigued," he said, annoyed, and she bit her lip so harshly that she felt the skin break.

"Okay, I only have to keep you on the phone for sixty seconds and they can trace the call…is that what you want?" she didn't respond. It was as if her entire body had frozen," Or do you just want me to talk…"he paused," Seriously, who is this? Usually the unknown callers make their agenda known pretty quickly," he added, and she sighed softly. He was still witty as ever, sprouting movie references and trying to make her speak.

"Aha, a noise. I made you sigh," he said, and she could hear his smile through the phone," Listen, unless you have something to say-" her mind flipped to what she should say. Sophie. She thought of the idea before she could really think it through. She couldn't say her name. She couldn't remember her social, but she did remember something else. Would that be enough to find her if Tony hadn't already? She wasn't sure. But her fingers reached for the buttons before she could stop them, pressing a series of keys before hanging up quickly, her eyes almost catatonic as Kelly took the phone from her.

"Ziva what's going on?" Kelly asked, staring at her in trepidation.

She stared at Kelly for a moment before opening her mouth to say something. She'd been contemplating it since She'd seen Kelly for the first time. Here she was, trying to get her long lost lover, or lover who thought she was long lost, to find their daughter, and Kelly Gibbs was sitting in front of her. There was no doubt in Ziva's mind that this was Gibbs' daughter. And she needed to do something about it. Everyone needed at least an attempt at a happy ending in their lifetime.

"What is it?" Kelly asked, taking the lid off the bottle and taking a long sip.

"Your father likes bourbon…your mother must have liked her vodka because I never saw him drink it," she said softly, and Kelly's eyes narrowed for a moment. She almost glared at Ziva. She was obviously used to no information about her parents. She probably only knew the basics.

"You knew my father?" Ziva nodded slowly, not sure if she was saying the right thing. She knew all too well the pain of losing a daughter, for whatever the reason, and something about Kelly's situation reminded her all too well of her own.

"I have a daughter, and I could never…I didn't tell her about her father…I don't know if she ever found him," Ziva admitted," And I could never let you live out your life without maybe knowing him. Because I had a horrible father, but your father…"she closed her eyes tightly for a moment," Your father was like a father to me…and I betrayed him," she finished, surprised she had gotten through the entire monologue without losing it. Kelly was staring at her in shock," And as I'm sure he would not help me, he would be amazed to learn that you're alive…"

"What happened to him?" Kelly asked quietly, her eyes piercing Ziva's. Ziva frowned.

"After your death? He disappeared…I don't…I don't know much except he murdered the man that killed you and then joined NIS…the branch of the Federal Government that I eventually worked for," Ziva said softly, and Kelly frowned at her phone.

"Fornell did not meet your father until a few years after your death…and your father's file was always sealed at NCIS…I never got the opportunity to see it and I'm sure he never did either," Ziva told her softly.

"You mean Tobias?" Kelly asked, and Ziva nodded. This situation was almost as bad as her own. Almost.

"Who did you call?" Kelly asked, and Ziva reached for the alcohol.

"The man I loved. A woman answered the phone, but then he picked up. The good news is he sounded alive, which is more than I can say for the way I am currently feeling," she mumbled, fighting back the urge to scream. Why would Tony not move on? She had left him, awash in his own misery with no explanation except for a snide comment years later. She hadn't been perceptive enough, and realized that once you screwed Tony over, he never thought of you the same. He was much too angry to even consider that she might need his help. The other part of her brain was still wrapping her thoughts around the fact that Tony was the Director. That note would cross his desk at some point, it probably already had. And because of that, he would see her handwriting. The cell phone rang. They both turned to stare at it, confused, and Ziva held a hand up, picking up the phone.

* * *

Tony rushed into NCIS, Sophie following behind him, slightly confused.

"Dad? What are you doing?" she questioned strangely, as they went down towards the basement floor and then below it, Sophie staring at him as he held his phone gently in his left hand. They walked out into a room filled with computers, and Tony approached one agent in particular, Sophie following him again, still completely lost as to what they were doing.

"Director," the man said in surprise when Tony tapped him on the shoulder.

"Keating, its Tony. You know that. I need you to trace a burn phone call," Tony said, handing the phone to Keating, who set it down and plugged it into multiple wires, Sophie looking on in interest.

"Okay, it looks like the number is just scrambled…"he jotted down something on a piece of scratch paper and handed it to Tony," That's the actual…and…the signal is coming from a residential area about two blocks away from Paddington Station in London," he informed Tony, handing his phone back to him.

"Thanks Keating, I appreciate it," he nodded as they walked back towards the elevator, Sophie staring at him in complete confusion as he pushed the stop button and got out the slip of paper, dialing quickly.

"Someone didn't teach you that burn phones aren't really burn phones anymore…unless you wanted me to know that you were near Paddington Station," Tony's voice said wryly. Ziva, once again, had no idea what to say. He was right. She had no idea how far technology had come since she'd been imprisoned.

She glanced at Kelly in alarm when she took the phone from her. She tried to take it back, and there was a slight struggle.

"Who is this?" she asked, surprising Ziva with her ability to fake an accent. Kelly shot her a look, crossing her arms and waiting for his response.

"Tony Dinozzo, who the hell is this?" he asked, and she glanced over at Ziva for a moment. Her eyes were begging her to say nothing. So she complied, and lied.

"My name is Kelly. My four year old took my cell phone. I'm sorry," Tony rolled his eyes from the other end of the call. That was impossible and both of them knew it.

"And dialed a country code?" he asked skeptically.

"Whatever, look. I'm sorry for the confusion," Kelly hung up the phone, and noticed Ziva had managed to take about three shots in a matter of minutes. She was reaching for a forth when Kelly put a hand out, stopping her.

"Ziva, why can't you talk to him?" Kelly asked gently, and Ziva shook her head.

"He hates me," Ziva whispered softly, putting the phone down and walking towards one of the bedrooms, going towards the window and staring out at the street. And the worst part was it was justified. Ziva couldn't even begin to blame Tony for his loathing of her memory for all these years. She didn't think she'd make it. Her only concern was Sophie, not her deepening feelings for Tony Dinozzo. And she'd never really thought about being able to talk to him again, being able to possibly apologize, see him, touch him…it had never been part of the equation.

As the numbness faded away, she'd been privy to many emotions. They flooded back to her suddenly; making her feel like she had toppled over and smashed her head against the wall, and her heart had burst into a million pieces. This one was probably the worst. It was regret. She bit her lip harshly, trying to keep from screaming. She regretted so much. She regretted ever leaving Tony, lying to him, lying to Sophie, lying to everyone. She felt sick to her stomach, and wished she were underground again. It was better to know that death would come eventually rather than not know what was next, what she should do. Ziva had always lived her life in plans, in missions, in goals. And now that they were gone she wasn't sure what she would do next. The sound of his voice terrified her. It meant she had to face him, what she had done to him, to them as a couple, to Sophie as a mother and to both of them as parents.

* * *

"McGeek, I need you," McGee glanced up when he saw Tony, standing in front of his desk and holding up his phone.

"What's up?" McGee asked, crossing his arms and leaning back in his chair. He had relaxed into his new duties during Tony's week off. This was the first day they'd had at work together. Vance was cleaning out his office, and Tony was running around finishing last minute preparations.

"You know how the office records all my calls?" McGee nodded, confused, and Tony ran a hand through his hair.

"I just got a call from a burn phone in London. I had it traced, called back, and this woman started talking to me, saying her four year old had dialed on accident…but something tells me…"

McGee started typing quickly, pulling up the conversation and listening to it.

"What's with the dialing?" Tony asked, annoyed, "That's what bothers me."

"Could have been the four year old," McGee said, rolling his eyes and opening another program, scanning through the phone call and writing something down.

"These are the numbers that were dialed," he said, passing the piece of paper to Tony, who thrust it back at him.

"Well have Chloe or Sara take it to Abby and have her run a decoder on it…I have a meeting, McGee," he said, and McGee nodded, watching Tony stride upstairs, visibly irked by the phone call he'd received. McGee wondered what had thrown him off so much about it? He got wrong numbers all the time.

"You still have that text message descrambler Abs?" he questioned, walking into the lab, where Abby was jamming out to music. Tim fought back a smile and tapped her on the shoulder. She spun around, and grinned at him, grabbing the remote and turning off the music currently booming through her lab.

"Hi Timmy," she said, kissing him softly, grabbing the piece of paper in his hand, staring at it strangely.

"Text message descrambler…."he informed her, and she nodded quickly, walking towards the computer before turning around to point a finger at him in question.

"Chain of evidence?" she asked, and he shook his head, walking towards the door and leaving her alone. She plugged in the letters, and frowned.

"This isn't a text…"she realized softly walking back towards the elevators. She arrived in the bullpen, and spotted him at his desk.

"Timmy it's a passport number…"she informed him, crossing her arms as she appeared by his desk.

"Okay, well did you…"she bent over his shoulder, and frowned, staring at what they found when Sophie's passport and address came up on the screen.

"Well that was totally not a four year old," McGee commented, and Abby shot him a strange look.

"Okay, well I'm going back downstairs if you care to tell me what is actually going on here, that'd be nice," she informed him. He ignored her, staring at Sophie's face. Passport numbers didn't change. Which meant that Ziva had planned this. Her signature was at the bottom of the passport in the space for consenting adult. He turned around to come face to face with Sophie.

"Oh hey Sophie," he said, reaching behind him to turn off the screen. She stopped him.

"Is that my passport?" she asked strangely, and Tim shrugged.

"You know your passport number by chance?" he asked her, and she shook her head. She was distracted. Ever since they got the phone call this morning, and Tony had gone off the deep end, running around trying to trace it, Sophie had been unable to stop thinking about the connection she'd made almost a week ago. Her pinky, her mother's pinky. A safe house that only there prints could access. It was too much to hope for. But she still had to be sure.

"No, I just got it last week," she reminded him, crossing her arms and walking past him towards the stairs. She was going to do it now.

"Tony's in a meeting," he called to her, and she rolled her eyes. She wanted to tell him. It had been a week since they'd become a family, and she secret was eating away at her.

She crossed her arms and sighed softly. McGee frowned. That sigh was incredibly familiar. He'd heard it before.

"You want to go to lunch while we're waiting?" Chloe asked, and Sophie nodded, glancing over at Sara, who was bent over a mountain of paperwork. It would be good to get out and not think about this, seeing as all she wanted to do was burst into tears and relay it to her father. She'd ask Sydney and Peter for advice, maybe her pseudo boyfriend that went to NYU? Or maybe Chloe and Sara. They were federal agents after all.

"Sara, would you like to come with us?" Sophie asked her, and she nodded, grabbing her bag, the three of them leaving McGee standing alone in the bullpen.

He was surrounded by women. He needed another male on the team. And quickly. Tony breezed down the stairs a second later, looking visibly relieved.

"Meeting took quicker than I thought. Want to grab lunch?" he asked McGee, and he nodded, both of them walking towards the elevators. McGee waited until the doors were closed to tell him.

"It was Sophie's passport number, the number the mystery caller died…" McGee told him, once they'd ordered, and Tony frowned.

"That's either one hell of a coincidence…" Tony started, and McGee cut him off as they walked to his car, getting in and driving towards their favorite deli restaurant.

"No such thing as coincidences," McGee reminded him, and Tony swallowed, taking a long sip of the ice tea the waitress brought him soon after. It didn't make sense.

"But what else could it be? Who else would have her passport number?" Tony asked, annoyed, and glanced down when his phone rang again.

"Dinozzo," he said shortly, and frowned.

"Yeah Dunham…you can give me a sit rep when we get back to the office. I'm at lunch. I'm allowed to eat…just grab Abs and both of you can meet me in MTAC at one," he hung up, and turned to face McGee.

"A clue? Maybe from someone who wouldn't maybe know that you'd found Sophie yet?" Tim suggested, and Tony stared down at his phone for a moment, curiosity winning out. He picked it up, and scrolled to his recent calls, pressing send.

"I think you were trying to help me, with that number. I'm just wondering how you knew it," Tony's voice said as soon as she picked up the phone. She bit her lip, fighting the urge to bite back with a sarcastic retort. This wasn't twenty years ago. She didn't want to give him a heart attack. And she wasn't sure if he knew anything at all. So she stayed silent.

"I understand you can't talk to me. But she's okay…okay? I don't know if that's what you're asking, if you were helping her…but she's with me, and she's fine. For now, anyways," Tony said, and heard the audible soft sigh on the other side of the phone," But I want to know how you knew…I can't just leave this alone like this…there has to be a reason you have this private number…I don't use it for work, and very few people have it…"he trailed off, waiting for her to say something, anything. She didn't. Who did he know that never talked? And then it clicked. His mouth was suddenly very dry, his palms sweaty and shaky, and his heart rate increased.

"Are you the girl from the videos?" he ventured quietly, afraid for the answer," I just want to help you…if you are, you don't need to be scared…I'm the director of NCIS…I can help you…protect you…"

It wasn't hard to discern the tears that flowed down Ziva's cheeks at his admission. She hiccupped, trying to regain her composure, shuddering sobs escaping her as she fought a panic attack that was sure to occur. He'd seen them? He'd seen her being violated, tortured, her screaming at nothing? Her complete separation from reality? She felt sick. Violated yet again. If Tony had seen them someone else had to have seen them first.

"Please don't cry, I didn't mean to make you cry I'm just trying to help you, and I don't know what to do," he said, "We know you didn't say anything…I'm just wondering why you're so scared let us help you. What are you afraid of?" he asked soothingly, and the reply shocked him.

"You," she couldn't stop the response that tumbled from her lips, her voice hoarse from crying and stuttered. She abruptly closed the phone, and Tony heard the sound of a dial tone. The way the voice spat out the word you was tickling the memories buried deep inside his brain. And then he remembered when he'd heard it that way before. On the video, in MTAC, from Ziva. She'd told him that he shouldn't waste his time…and he'd lost it. But he couldn't not remember the sound of her voice.

Tony stared at the phone in astonishment for a moment before he'd made up his mind. He pressed redial, and the phone rang with no answer. The voicemail clicked on, giving the generic response, and he swallowed, bile rising in the back of his throat. Wishing and hoping were different then hearing. Hearing meant that it might be real.

When it beeped, he knew exactly what to say. McGee stared at Tony in astonishment as he recited something French. From Memory. This situation was too bizarre.

"Une saint-valentin dans ses bras, où on glisse des mots tout bas, pour dire son amour, qui pour elle durera toujours," he whispered, and hung up the phone, hoping he hadn't made a mistake. That was such a specific memory. One that she couldn't possibly believe was a message from anyone else.

"Tony?" McGee asked strangely, and he shook his head, suddenly feeling very light headed.

"I need to head back to the office," he informed McGee quickly, and Tim frowned.

"Tony, what videos were you talking about? I didn't see any videos," Tim informed him, and Tony shot him a look, regaining his composure momentarily, throwing a fifty down on the table and standing up," And where did you learn to speak French like that?" Tony ignored him, his hands shaking slightly as he put his suit jacket back on.

"Tony, what about your sandwi-"

"Can you get it to go, I'm sorry-"he said, his mind running a million miles a minute as he got into his car and turned it back onto the street, driving towards NCIS with his brain clogged with memories.

"_Ziva, they're books. We only have three days in Paris, and you're looking…at books…" he informed her, crossing his arms, smiling down at her as she rifled through one leather bound volume after another, until he grabbed one from her hands, reading the French, his eyebrow furrowed._

"_This is the weirdest poem I have ever read," he informed her, pushing the book back into her hands, and she stuck her tongue out at him, grabbing the book and walking towards the register, leaving him alone. He picked up the book next to it, and opened it to a random page, his eyes scanning the words that filled the page. She didn't notice him buy it. _

_It wasn't until later, when they were laying in bed, Ziva staring pensively out at the Paris skyline, that he grabbed the book, opening it to the page, his breath tickling the back of her neck. She squirmed slightly, and he leant back, his fingers trailing across her back. _

"_What are you doing?" she questioned, confused, and her breath caught in her throat when he started speaking. _

"_Le coeur qui crie l'amour, pour cette femme tout les jours, celle qui a notre coeur, et notre bonheur ," he whispered," Une femme parfaite à nos yeux, nos yeux tant amoureux, on était à la recherche d'amour, et enfin elle est là chaque jour," he kissed the back of her neck, and she rolled over, spotting him with another poetry book," Une saint-valentin dans ses bras, où on glisse des mots tout bas, pour dire son amour, qui pour elle durera toujours," she leant closer to him, her eyes slightly glassy as he continued,"  Elle qui a notre coeur, qui sèche nos pleurs, et en cette belle saint-valentin, cet amour ne fait qu'un ," he reached foreward to touch a stray piece of hair as he finished,"Certains attendent des bébés, et d'autres seulement à s'aimer, certains vont se mariés, et d'autres l'amour fête," he whispered, and closed the book, setting it aside. _

"_That is not a romantic poem," she noted quietly, leaning into him despite her confusion, their lips meeting slowly._

"_Do you understand why I read it to you?" he whispered against her lips, and she noticed the look on his face. _

"_Tony-"she started, and he shook his head. _

"_If I ever lose you again…I'll…"he trailed off, glancing over her shoulder. She grabbed his face in her hands, and pulled his face down to hers, turning so he could settle on top of her as their kisses became more passionate. _

"_You will not lose me," she promised, staring up at him hazedly,"I wont let you lose me again, for I could not bear it either, you see?" she asked softly. _

"_You're sounding all poetic. I think the poetry has really done a number on-"he made a strangled sound in his throat when she whacked him on the chest, glaring down at him, a teasing smile on her lips,"Ouch!"He said indignantly. _

"_I love you," he whispered a moment later, and she smiled. _

"_I love you," he kissed her like she was going to vanish that night, and made love to her the same way. It was almost as if he thought he would lose her if he let go of her. _

* * *

Poems:

**Douce Saint-Valentin d'amour**

Le coeur qui crie l'amour, pour cette femme tout les jours, celle qui a notre coeur, et notre bonheur ...  Une femme parfaite à nos yeux, nos yeux tant amoureux, on était à la recherche d'amour, et enfin elle est là chaque jour ...  Une saint-valentin dans ses bras, où on glisse des mots tout bas, pour dire son amour, qui pour elle durera toujours ...  Elle qui a notre coeur, qui sèche nos pleurs, et en cette belle saint-valentin, cet amour ne fait qu'un ...  Certains attendent des bébés, et d'autres seulement à s'aimer, certains vont se mariés, et d'autres l'amour fêté ..

Translation:

**Long-Felt Desires** French Poem By Louise Labe  Long-felt desires, hopes as long as vain-- sad sighs--slow tears accustomed to run sad into as many rivers as two eyes could add, pouring like fountains, endless as the rain-- cruelty beyond humanity, a pain so hard it makes compassionate stars go mad with pity: these are the first passions I've had. Do you think love could root in my soul again? If it arched the great bow back again at me, licked me again with fire, and stabbed me deep with the violent worst, as awful as before, the wounds that cut me everwhere would keep me shielded, so there would be no place free for love. It covers me. It can pierce no more.

Okay, so that's it for this update. Should have more once I get settled at PDX. Hope you like it.

-Jena


	20. Part 10 2 of 2

**Catch me if you Can**

**There's beauty in the breakdown**

**July 27, 2010**

**Jena Rink**

**Can't say much more than apologies. Life has been crazy. This is unbeta-d, so thanks for hanging with me. :D**

**-Jena**

He drove back to the office on autopilot, his eyes straying towards his cell phone laying on the seat beside him every couple of seconds, wondering if she'd listen. Wondering if she'd call him back? There was no way it was safe for her right now. Not only was she dead, but if she were to suddenly reappear, alive after all these years, there would be questions. Questions neither one of them would want to face. Once he got some pull, he could protect her. But right now, he wasn't even sure it was possible to do so. If it was her. Of course it was her. Her voice hadn't changed. It had stunned him into silence. He hoped she would get the message, that it wasn't safe here yet. But there was also some part of him that wanted her here. He wanted answers. He hadn't realized he was crying until he pulled into the garage and caught sight of his reflection in the glass. He looked awful. His eyes were red by the time he got to the elevators. And the first place he went was Abby's lab. He opened the door cautiously, and saw her rocking out to something in her headphones, her pigtails swinging as she analyzed the data from the corpse of a Navy Commander who had been murdered the night before. She noticed him before he noticed she wasn't dancing anymore. He was almost catatonic.

"Tony?" she asked, confused, and frowned at the look on his face,"Oh my God Tony what happened?" she asked, ushering him over to her couch, where he sank down easily, staring ahead blankly. She knelt down in front of him, trying to catch his gaze.

"You need to run the DNA from Israel again," he informed her.

"Against, what, exactly?" his eyes rose to meet hers, and she knew. She knew what he was hinting at. And it wasn't worth fighting with him.

"Just do, it Abby," he said, his voice a little harsher than he intended. She flinched.

"What do you want the parameters to be?" she asked quietly, and he ran a hand over his eyes.

"Deceased agents from the year 2015 on," he informed her quietly.

"Tony why-"he shook his head. She was busted.

"Did you get anything else besides the hair that you could use?" he asked her, and she frowned.

"Tony it was burned to the ground…there wasn't a lot down there," she whispered, and his eyes flashed back to the videos. Her face obscured by a long curtain of tangled curly hair, the various forms of torture Hasad had applied. How could she not have broken? Everyone had a breaking point, but she had never reached the point where she cracked. When he cut her clothes off her, when he hung her up on chains for days, when he practically drowned her, when he cut her, when he burned her, when he…"he put a hand up and ran towards her trashcan, emptying the meager contents of his stomach.

Her phone rang, and she picked it up, staring at Tony, her arms crossed.

"Tony we need to go to MCAT, the meeting with Chad?" she said softly, reaching out a hand to touch his shoulder. He shrugged it off, walking towards the elevator. She followed him, having no idea what to say to calm him down. When they came out on the main floor, everyone was back from lunch, and he turned to her.

"'M gonna hit the head. I'll meet you upstairs in five," he whispered, turning quickly and retreating towards the men's bathroom, leaving everyone staring at his retreating back in confusion.

Tony splashed cold water on his face, staring at his reflection in the mirror dazedly. He looked broken. He hadn't looked that way in years. Not since she'd been dead the first time. He had to pull himself together. He straightened his tie, and walked towards the elevator without a word to anyone, getting in and going up to his level before walking into MTAC.

* * *

"McGee, he's in interrogation," Chloe informed Sara, staring after Tony as he punched in the code hurriedly and got into MTAC. He'd been distracted all day. She needed to pick his brain for what was going through it, but hadn't had the time with everything that had been happening. Sara turned to Sophie, and Chloe followed her gaze, realizing that she had nothing to do.

"Sophie, I think Vance is cleaning out what's left in his office. He mentioned that he wanted to meet you yesterday," McGee said to Sophie, who stood up quickly, following him towards the stairs. Chloe was right behind them. When they got to the top of the stairs, she turned towards Sophie, who was staring at her father's door nervously.

"And what…is this..Vance like?" she asked softly, and Chloe frowned.

"I'm not sure how he'll feel about you. You were a surprise, you know," she informed Sophie, squeezing her shoulder softly.

"Um…"she pushed open the first door, and Michelle smiled at her.

"Hi, Sophie. You can go right in," she motioned to the door, and Sophie swallowed, pressing gently on the metal door that led to her father's office, taking a deep breath. She was not aware why she had become so nervous suddenly. Was it not only her father's old boss? Her mother's old boss and her grandfather's old friend?

"Hello," she said softly, peeking her head around the corner to meet Vance's gaze. He was sitting on the only couch in the room, and motioned for her to join him.

"Sophie…you look a lot like your mother…"she frowned, glancing down for a moment.

"I believe you were friends with my grandfather, yes?" she asked, and Vance nodded, taking in her appearance.

"Your grandfather didn't want you to have to fight. I'm glad, at any rate, that you made it here in one piece, despite the consequences," she managed a small smile, staring around the room, which had two stacks of boxes in it. One belonged to her father, and she assumed the others belonged to this man.

"He had a strange way of showing his intentions, did he not?" she responded carefully, staring anywhere but Vance's face.

"We're going to need any information you might have on the layout of your grandfather's estate. I assume you spent a great deal of time there growing up," he said, and she clenched her teeth.

"Would you like me to draw you a floorplan?" she questioned, feigning confusion. He stared at her for a moment. She stared right back, raising an eyebrow slightly, unblinking. She knew what he wanted. But that information, the information she'd stumbled upon in her recollections…was it really meant to be shared in a venue like this? When she hadn't even told Tony?

"You truly are your mother's daughter, and your father's," he told her, and she shrugged, putting on the façade of someone who was completely indifferent to his questions, even though they had immediately sparked her interest.

"If we are …playing the game of honesty here, it should be easy for you to question me as to what you wish to know about Eli's estate," she pointed out simply, crossing her arms and leaning back against the cushions.

"Im not sure what we are looking for exactly…it seems that Connor, your friend from Paris, picked up a woman in Tel Aviv, one that gave him a note with incredibly personal information about how to take down Mossad.," she felt her heart rate speeding up slightly, and glanced down, trying to think about what to say next. The façade was broken, obviously. He knew she knew something. But he did not know what, and that was always on her side. Mike Franks had taught her that. As long as the enemy didn't have the information, it was still hers. And for some reason she thought of this man as an enemy. Despite the fact that he was doing the same thing her father would be doing in a few days time, despite the fact that he'd known her family, her mother, her trust just seemed like too much to lend out to him.

"Connor?"she asked strangely,"Wha-"

"We are talking with him right now, hoping he will give us the name we need,"Vance informed her,"And I am wondering what you really knew about your grandfather's operations…"she scoffed. Getting defensive wouldn't really help matters, but she couldn't help herself. He'd backed her into a corner.

"You are assuming that I, as a mere six year old, knew the secrets of such a classified government organization? Those secrets were not given to me. It would have been too dangerous. As a child…if the photograph was not in black and white I did not look Israeli. And that was not even the worst problem, considering the fact that my grandfather was Eli David, and my mother was his top operative. I was kept hidden for much of my young life…"she trailed off, wondering what she should call him.

"You can call me Leon, Sophie," he said, and she nodded quickly before thinking of how she could continue this story, how she could spin it to make it appear as if she knew nothing.

"My mother was always worried for my safety, and that was the only reason why I survived long enough to escape," she said finally, clasping her hands together.

"The note gives codes. Locations of disks, and information that someone here would no doubt be able to crack them, given the difference between then and now. I will have all the records to Mossad before and after the takeover once this happens, so I'm going to ask you again if you know anything at all…"she stared over at him for a minute. Did he think she would lie to him? She had no allegience to Mossad, but that did not matter any longer. He was fishing for information. She didn't not like that. Mike had always called him a toothpick, for some reason, and then she knew why. He took out a toothpick from his breast pocket and chewed on it aimlessly, as if he had all the time in the world to grill her for information.

"I was not aware that I came up here to be interrogated. Do you think my father would like to know that you are fishing for information that might be of no use whatsoever if you are going to have it soon already?" Sophie asked softly, tilting her head to the side.

"It is hard to see someone's loyalty, you understand, if they have never had a real home," she bit her lip, glancing down for a moment, trying to keep her composure. What did he know about her home and her family? Nothing. Why did he even have the right to ask?

"I have not had a home for the last seventeen years of my life because my mother intended for me to have one now. And that is all that matters to me," she said, her voice soft, getting up and walking towards the door before she said something she would regret.

"So you are done talking about this?" he asked, and she shrugged, turning back to stare at him for a moment. She would not break, not in front of him. She was not weak, if the last many years of her life were any indication, and she would not be weak now, especially in front of him.

"I am done talking about this with you," she said simply, walking out the door and closing it behind her, leaning against it for a moment before realizing there was wetness behind her closed eyelids.

"Sophie?" she turned her face to Michelle's, and shook her head, walking out of the office and back into the labyrinth of hallways, hoping to get some alone time.

There was something beautiful about losing it. She remembered the feeling when she read the letter in New York, when she realized how far back her mother had planned for this to happen, had expected her to grow up not knowing why she was running or having any security. She'd done the best she could.

* * *

"So lets go over this again," Connor rolled his eyes slightly. He wouldn't betray Ziva. No matter what they said to him.

"I found her outside of the camp. She looked like she had just showered…she had cuts and bruises everywhere, and a Vitamin D Deficiancy. She was malnourished, and she fainted as soon as I saw her and attempted to talk to her. I tried to take her to Cairo, but she wouldn't go on base. Knew the name of the fort and everything. She asked me for a piece of paper, wrote a note, and when I woke up in the morning, she was gone…she didn't take anything, but the note was in my pocket. I gave her TPN and Saline while we were on the truck," Connor said, exhausted from rambling off the story for the tenth time. He reached for the water on the table, and McGee scooted it away from him.

"Did she give you a name?" he repeated, and Connor refused to falter, shaking his head obviously.

"For the tenth time, Special Agent McGee, no. She did not give me a name," he said, and McGee opened a folder, scanning the contents.

"The other men say that you talked to her for an extended period of time," he said finally, and Connor flinched slightly.

"She was scared, okay?" Connor said softly,"She needed help, and she was terrified of us for some reason. I wasn't going to let her just get taken into custody-" he closed his eyes tightly. He'd said too much.

"Custody? She was an enemy of the state? Did she tell you that?" Connor shook his head no, scratching the top of his head.

"She didn't…she was horrified at the prospect of being on base, like I said before…she offered me money to help her disappear, and I told her she was too weak to go…"Connor said finally,"She said you wouldn't trust her…not after what she had done…"

Chloe frowned from the other side of the glass, Sara sitting next to her.

"You okay?" Sara asked, and Chloe nodded.

"Its been a crazy couple of weeks," she commented, as McGee continued to grill Connor, who seemed to be cracking.

"I was scared we'd had her hostage, the way she talked about America…it was like the way I talk about my father…I idolize him…but he never thinks that I do enough…it was like no matter what she did to fix things it wouldn't be enough," Connor explained, and McGee got up.

"I'll be back," he said, leaving Connor alone in the room, and bumping into Sophie on the way out.

"McGee. I didn't see you there," she said, and he noticed her eyes, which were rimmed with tears.

"What did Vance do to you?" he asked her, and she shook her head.

"It is nothing…is Connor in there?" she asked, and McGee nodded.

"When you are finished questioning him I would like to thank him for his hospitality," Sophie explained, wringing her hands together, and Mcgee nodded.

"Okay, after questioning…you look tired…you should head downstairs," he told her, and she nodded.

"I will, I promise…just have someone come get me," she reminded him.

She made it downstairs easily, and found Abby's futon, curling up on it and staring at the wall. This was entirely more difficult then she ever thought it would be. And then there was that nagging doubt that stole her ability to nap from her.

What if she was alive? What if she had been the entire time? The thought alone made her stomach churn.

* * *

Abby entered the lab to see Sophie on her futon, hugging Bert and staring off into space.

"Are you okay?" Abby asked, and Sophie shrugged, reaching up to wipe a stray tear from her eye. She would be alright. She was only concerned with the note that Director Vance had mentioned.

"I am fine," she said, realizing the words were false as soon as she expelled them. Her mother used to try and pull that all of the time on her when she was litte. And Sophie saw through it every time. Abby wasn't much different, crossing her arms.

"You are not fine," she informed Sophie, who in turn, crossed her arms and stared right back at Abby tersely.

"What happened?"Tim asked her, concerned, breaking the staring contest, and she shook her head, noticing Abby was staring at her strangely.

"Is this about that little déjà vu moment you had at breakfast a few weeks ago? Your mom used to have them all the time," Abby said, and Sophie tilted her head to the side, staring at Abby incredulously. She was much more perceptive than Sophie had originally thought.

"Was Vance trying to get information from you?" McGee prodded, and Sophie glanced down as Abby clenched her teeth. She was obviously angry. Sophie hadn't gotten to see Abby act like a protective mother bear, but she was about to.

"He mentioned something about a note. I was hoping I could see it?" Sophie said quietly, and McGee and Abby shared a look.

"Your dad doesn't know about it…he will...but we've been running all kinds of tests on it to prove its authenticity," Abby said softly,"They all came back that it wasn't forged…but we're still not sure, and we can't…"

"What?" she asked, as Abby wordlessly gestured to it.

Sophie glanced down, staring at the paper, which besides a thumbprint, had something she recognized like the back of her hand.

"A clair de la lune," she breathed, her fingers running over her mother's handwriting.

"What?" Abby questioned softly, and Sophie sighed, reading the rest of the lyrics, her mind fuzzy.

"My mother used to sing it to me when I was…upset," Sophie whispered.

"What do the lyrics mean?" Sophie shook her head.

"That doesn't matter…this is her handwriting," she whispered, her heart dropping into her stomach.

"Are you sure?" Sophie nodded.

"This is the note that Connor gave to NCIS?" she asked Mcgee softly, and he nodded.

"Sophie-"she rushed past McGee and up the buildings set of stairs, coming out onto the top level, staring at the door to interrogation silently.

* * *

"And she didn't give you a name?" Tony asked for the forth time, leaning back in his chair and staring at the kid. He looked nervous, like he was completely aware this was going to happen but unsure as to how he would handle it. At this point he was almost completely convinced that it had to be her. That they'd stopped looking and the mother of his only child had been tortured against her will for 11 years while he moped around. He felt empty.

"No," he said, looking down and to the left quickly afterwards. Leave it to Ziva's memory to cause him to be able to tell Connor was lying.

"See I know you're lying to me…Connor. You were helpful before, why not help her now…"

"Because it seems like whatever she went through was our fault!" Connor burst out suddenly, and Tony ran a hand through his hair. Not her fault, his fault. All of it was his fault.

"She said we wouldn't trust her. She knew the name of the base we were going to, try to pay me to let her get out of the truck…I gave her TPN and Saline, and when I woke up when we were outside of the base in Cairo, she'd jumped ship…well truck. She'd hopped the transport…but she didn't take anything with her," Connor explained further, like he had time and time again.

"And you mentioned she had a Vitamin D Deficiency?" Tony prodded, and Connor nodded, fighting the urge to roll his eyes. This one seemed more invested than the others. When you were getting questioned by the Director of NCIS, you knew it was serious.

"I'm…going to show you something, okay?" Tony ventured, and Connor nodded.

"Gary can you play the dvd I slipped you earlier?" Tony said into the nothingness on the room, and a second later the screen across from them popped on.

"Was that her?" Tony asked, and he nodded quickly, causing Tony's face to turn suddenly ashen. Connor didn't notice.

"Yes. That was…her…"Connor said.

"Just tell me," Tony pressed, losing his composure and slamming his fist down on the table,"Your disrupting a federal-"

"I'm not telling you, alright? She trusted me. And she seemed petrified and I think the last thing she needs is to be rail-" Connor was yelling now, and Tony took a deep breath before he cut him off again.

"You know they taped it?" Tony countered, and Connor glanced up at the screen, frozen on an image of her. He swallowed.

"You have a tape?" he said weakly, and Tony nodded.

"Yeah, eleven years of tape…do you really think I could sit through that and even make this woman be taken into custody? I think I know. No one else has caught on, but its extremely obvious to me that the woman…."he took a deep breath, trying to keep his emotions in check," That the woman in that video is someone I knew very, very well when she was here. Do you understand?" Tony asked softly, leaning forward. The emotion in Tony's eyes startled the young man, and he flinched slightly.

"She said she would contact you again. I think she didn't want to be weak," Connor ventured, and Tony sighed. She already had, if he was right. But if he'd spooked her, and it really was her, then he was screwed. He may never see her again. She obviously wasn't the same. Who would be after…bile rose in his throat again, and he closed his eyes tightly.

"I admire your loyalty. I wish a lot of the men in the armed forces were more like you. You're free to go. If I have any other questions I'll call you," Connor nodded, and paused at the door for a moment.

"The note…was the intel-"

"We're working on it," Tony said vaguely, glancing up when Abby opened the door.

"Tony?" she asked, her face slightly pale, even for a goth. His eyes met hers for a moment as she ducked past Connor.

"You can show yourself out," he told Connor, following Abby out the door as she turned around. She looked nervous. She was clenching and unclenching her fists, and he frowned.

"Abs, what is going on?" he said, and she stuffed her hands in the pockets of her jumper,"I know the tests aren't back yet, but I wasn't aware we had any other evidence…"she glanced down quickly.

"There was one thing. I had to send it out, and it got back today…and I wasn't sure we'd be able to figure out the code on the back of it but Sophie-"his eyes narrowed at her name.

"McGee used the information in the note with agents on the ground in Tel Aviv. I think you should see this," she grabbed his arm, pulling him towards forensics and leaving Connor standing alone in the hallway, confused until he saw Sophie round the corner.

"What was her name?" she asked him softly, her lower lip shaking.

"I promised her I wouldn't-" she shoved him against the wall, and he gulped.

"I swear, Connor, if you refrain from telling me the name of the woman that wrote that note, I will-"

"Sophie! What are you doing?" they both glanced over to see Chloe, her arms crossed, walking towards them.

"If I find out that you helped…"she whispered dangerously.

"Helped who?" Connor asked weakly, staring down at her.

"Come on, Sophie. I'm supposed to be watching you," she grabbed her by the arm, Sophie glaring at Connor all the way around the corner as he massaged his throat, staring at her in alarm.

* * *

"The subject has been apprehended. She refuses to share any information. It will not matter whether or not she complies. We have taken control…"Tony read softly, his eyebrows furrowed,"The David's reign is but a memory, and the city and country are both in turmoil…the fall of the government will surely follow the mass assassination…we have not found the girl, but we will."

He closed his eyes tightly, clenching the paper in his fist so hard that Abby had to pry it away from his fingers. She frowned at him. She didn't know. He had to remind himself that they didn't know what he'd gone through today.

"Why haven't I seen the tapes?" Abby questioned, crossing her arms, and Tony shook his head.

"Abby, Nate and I are the only ones that have seen the tapes. And that's the way its going to stay for right now. Because I feel like maybe, just maybe, the woman they happened to wouldn't want us to just watch them over and over, analyzing every single thing that she was forced to go through! The point is that she didn't cave. Whatever information they wanted from her, she didn't give it!" Tony said, his voice dangerously on edge. He was so angry with himself that he could hardly think straight.

"Tony-" Abby started.

"Let me see the damn note," he said softly, and Abby winced.

"Tony…I didn't want to stress you out, okay? Before you see-"he grabbed it, his eyes scanning over the words, not really reading them, just seeing how they were written. How the letters were mostly in print, but the s's were written in cursive, and the soft curve after the n's that wasn't really necessary but she always used.

"Tony?" Abby asked in a small voice, and he shook his head.

"You tested it?" his voice was steady, and Abby nodded.

"Its possible it was faked, but Tony…we have samples of her writing, and they all-"

He shook his head, backing up towards the door as Abby tried to stop him.

"Tony.."Abby grabbed both his arms as Vance came into the room.

"Any matches?" he asked, and Tony turned around, straightening his tie and acting as if he hadn't been practically screaming seconds ago.

"Nothing, unfortunately. Although the intel the woman gave us checks out. They are in the process of emptying the warehouse where it was stored, and then tech will go through the findings," Abby piped up, immediately grabbing her CaffPow afterwords and taking a long sip. She didn't feel like saying anything else.

"Dinozzo, a word?" Tony nodded, following Vance out of the room and allowing Abby to breathe a small sigh of relief. She turned to stare at McGee, who was watching with interest from the office, sitting at her desk, typing furiously.

"If its her and she doesn't wait to come back, it could end badly. Can you hack into Cairo's airport and scan all of the passports that've gone through the system?" Abby asked him, and he nodded slowly.

"Its gonna take time, Abs," he told her, and she nodded quickly.

"That's fine, Timmy. Just do it?" she said, her eyes apprehensive.

"I'll find her, okay?" Tim whispered, kissing her forehead,"I'll see you at home for dinner, okay?" she nodded, watching him leave, and leant back against the wall, closing her eyes tightly.

* * *

"I think your daughter is hiding something," Vance said, pressing the stop button.

"Can you give her a break?" Tony asked, leaning against the wall," She barely got out of the hospital, and you're already asking her questions?"

"I didn't want to give her too much time to think about the answers…" Vance explained, and Tony ran a hand through his hair, trying not to blow up, or shatter, or do anything to indicate that he was trying to stop himself from having a nervous breakdown.

"She's barely seventeen years old," Tony pointed out,"She's hurt, and scared, and the last thing she needs is questioning…I need her to trust me. She'll open up eventually, and when she does I wont have a choice in telling the agency because it would be interfering with a federal investigation, alright Leon? Don't underestimate me. Sec Nav gave me the go ahead to give her time to talk about this!" he said, storming from the elevator, his eyes falling on Sophie, who was sitting at Ziva's desk.

"I'm taking that afternoon off," he informed Vance, and Vance nodded silently.

"Go be with your daughter, Dinozzo. If I need you I'll call you," Vance said, and Tony turned to Sophie, his expression unreadable.

"Come on, Soph. let's go," he said softly, and she sighed, getting to her feet and following him towards the elevators.

"I'm sorry about Vance. He doesn't understand tact very much," Tony said, reaching out for her shoulder to squeeze it gently.

"How easy is it to forge handwriting that well?" she said in a small voice.

"I don't know…"Tony mumbled, as they entered the parking garage.

"If she's-"

"I don't know what her mental state is like even if she did-" his voice broke, and she frowned.

"Tony?" she ventured, as they slid into the car, Tony turning on the car as if he was on autopilot.

"They have video.."he managed thickly," It's how Connor…he recognized her by me showing him the videos Hasad had…"

"Then he has had my mother for 11 years?" Sophie whispered, angry with herself for even thinking that her mother had left her and Tony willingly. She didn't understand. And that was something her mother told her always lead to hate and anger.

"We can't chase her, Sophie. I want to chase her…but we can't. She was right…if it is her the United States doesn't trust her any longer," Sophie scoffed.

"And does that include you?" she questioned, not meaning to sound so heated about it.

"Of course I trust her! She sent you to me!"

"She doesn't know that! I doubt she knows much of anything if she suddenly escaped only to realize it'd been 11 years? She does not know that Mike is dead, where I am, what I am doing….she might think we are both dead! The longer we wait-"

"She's in London…she hasn't used a burn phone in over ten years, they're traceable now,"he said softly, pulling over on the side of the road. Sophie turned her entire body to face him in the car,"Your passport, earlier…"he trailed off, and Sophie frowned,"I asked her questions but she didn't say anything, but she dialed a series of numbers quickly before she hung up… I had Keating track the location, and I had Abby run a decoder, but she didn't. She realized it was a passport number. Yours…I called the number again and told her that you were safe if she was trying to help me. I didn't really think it was anyone in particular…maybe a friend of ours from the past…but when she refused to talk I thought it might be the girl in the videos…so I mentioned it, and whoever was there starting crying…I was trying to calm them down, and asked them what they were afraid of…and they said me…and hung up…but the voice…"Sophie cut him off, her expression pensive.

"You know where she is?" Sophie asked softly, and Tony shrugged,"Then what in the world are you doing here! We have to find her!" Sophie added. Tony didn't even move to start the car.

"You think this is easy for me? She lied to me! She left me! She tried to ask for help and I ignored it, she never told me we were having a child, she never told me why she left, and then I heard she was dead and it was hard not to believe it. Then you show up suddenly, and I find out she might be alive?" Tony asked softly, and Sophie flinched, undoing her seatbelt, much to Tony's surprise.

"Well I am certainly sorry if I have been a burden to you," Sophie spat, opening her door and shutting it, walking back the direction they came in, Tony running a hand through his hair in frustration.

"Sophie! Stop! That's not what I-"she rounded the corner, and he groaned, frustrated.

"Teenagers,"he whispered to himself, closing the door to his car and chasing after her. She was fast.

"I hope you have money to pay for this dry cleaning bill, because I just chased you for five blocks in an Armani Suit and Gucci loafers," he informed her, sinking down onto the bench next to her, panting. She turned to stare at him in both aggravation and confusion.

"Gucci what?" she asked, annoyed, and he shook his head.

"Nevermind…look…"he glanced out at the park where she'd decided to stop, mother's playing with their kids, father's pushing their daughters on the swings,"You're…anything but a burden to me. Soph,"he said, turning to stare at her. She was obviously on the verge of tears, although she looked fine. She was like Ziva in that respect. Her lip was thin, her eyes impossibly wide and glassy,"You're one of the best things that could ever have happened to me…And this isn't ever going to be easy…for either of us…if she's out there we'll find her…"he promised her.

"Why not now?" Sophie whispered quietly,"What if she's in trouble…"she trailed off, and Tony ran a hand through his hair.

"I have an address. I'll track it through the CIA and FBI and NSA…I'll have McGee hack into their databases…just to make sure. Okay?" Sophie nodded finally.

"Are you afraid of finding her?" she ventured, and he squinted, his mind once again filled with the images of what he'd seen on the tapes.

"I'm afraid of what she…what she might have become because of all of this,"he said finally,"I'm afraid that when we do find her, she wont be the person we remember at all,"she laid her head on his shoulder, staring out at the children.

"I have never been on a swingset before…how exactly do you…swing?" she asked Tony suddenly, and he squinted for a moment. What child had never been on swings? Sophie was hardly a child. But at the same time…

"You've never been to a playground?" she shrugged, crossing her legs underneath her on the bench.

"There was never time for that…I played football with the boys in Mexico…and I took dance lessons and singing lessons when I was in Israel…"she said finally, glancing over at him.

"There's a set in the backyard at Abby and Tim's…I'll teach you how to swing…"

"I think we need to make a list…the man on the Queen Mary 2 was telling me something about Cotton Candy? I do not know what it is…but he said it was delicious…"

"A man, huh?" Tony questioned, turning to stare at her. Her cheeks were flushed slightly.

"He goes to NYU,"she remarked, playing with the hem on the sleeve of her sweatshirt,"He was nice…I have not gotten the chance to call him…I need to also call the people that got me here…let them know I am safe,"Tony nodded.

"I can get you a secure line for that," he told her, and she ran a hand through her hair.

"Thank you,"she told him simply.

"Do you want to go home and talk about it?" he ventured, and she closed her eyes tightly for a moment.

"Everything?" he nodded.

"I can pick and choose what I let loose into the world of government intelligence, Soph…its better than talking to Vance or another agent…or another agency…"she nodded finally.

"Alright. Is Jeanne at the apartment still?" Tony nodded, and she sighed.

"You must tell me about her…about mom," she set the condition, and Tony swallowed.

"Okay,"he told her, getting to his feet as the sun started to sink below the horizon, Sophie following him as they walked back to the car, which was still parked on the side of the road.

They were feet from the car when Sophie rushed forward, her eyes focused on something Tony couldn't see.

"Soph?" he asked strangely, and followed her gaze to the device sticking out of his tailpipe.

"Run" she turned, and he followed, the explosion happening seconds later. Tony felt them flying through the air, and closed his eyes tightly. It wasn't even a full week into his new position and someone had already tried to kill him. Great. He felt something land on top of him, and realized it was Sophie. It felt like she was breathing. At least she was safe.

**so? I know its been forever (runs and hides) **


	21. Part 11 1 of 2

**Catch Me if You Can**

Part 11 1 of 2

Jena Rink

November 2011

Author's note: Life got in the way of me having time to really think this through. And I didn't want to continue it unless I had a clear plan, and it was good enough for me to feel like you would all enjoy reading it. So here it is. I have a plan now. And designated writing time every week (late Sunday nights). Please let me know what you think? I know its not as long as what I normally post, but the important part is I have a plan.

Thanks for sticking with me, and for coming back to read again, hopefully. This part is pretty Ziva/Kelly centric, but it was necessary to set a lot of plot points into motion. Enjoy!

-Jena

She hated waking up from nightmares. Her hair was plastered to her forehead, more curly then she ever remembered it being in DC. This wasn't DC. This was years, and lifetimes, and so much later then DC that she couldn't even seem to connect anything about her life now to the one she had in the past. But when she was sleeping, now that was impossible. Her brain couldn't seem to disconnect what she was longing for then. It was shut down enough that the memories, the dreams, the conversations flooded in like tidal waves. She sat for a minute, and considered the dream she had just woken up from. In it, she had seemed aware of too many things. She couldn't tell which parts were memories, and which parts were something else entirely.

_She was pressed against him. He wasn't younger. She could smell his cologne and didn't want to move, ever. It was like comforting blanket, wrapping her up and keeping her from having to deal with all of this. The part of her that didn't realize this was a dream wanted to stay here forever. But something was off. There was a nagging part of her consciousness that alerted her to some sort of discrepancy. Yes, they'd done this. She'd done this often, actually, to ground herself. Tony wasn't usually shirtless when she did. In elevators, in stairwells, in their apartment while he was cooking her breakfast on the weekends, and here. In Paris. _

_He'd been shirtless in Paris. Most of the time, she'd been shirtless in Paris. They'd been blessed with two days where all they were supposed to do was sell their cover as newlyweds on their Honeymoon in old Paris. It made it easier, ultimately, to rendezvous with Norah, like she was an old friend, and to get her back to the states to testify. The sun was setting over whatever memory she'd chosen to dream about this evening, and it was a vivid one. It was freezing, but they'd gotten too warm. They'd opened the door to the balcony, and he'd stared at the lights of the Eiffel Tower, Ziva leaning behind him, her hand holding a glass of wine. She wasn't holding a glass of wine in this memory, though. It was colder then it had been before, and everything was cast in an ashen light. _

_He had yet to move. It was like he was a memory and not present at all, but she didn't care. She could feel him breathing, and just hugged him tighter, squeezing him as close to her as possible. If no words were spoken at all, she just wanted this. Then she heard him let out a little noise, much like when Gibbs would head slap him or she'd punch him in the stomach. She was hugging him too tightly, apparently. _

_For some reason, she knew he'd been hurt. She could smell ash in the air, gasoline, and blood. She relinquished her hold on him just enough so that she wasn't pressing against him too hard. He'd been in an explosion. It smelled like the crime scene after his car had been blown apart. She didn't know where her brain was pulling these connections from, but the connections were there. _

_Was she supposed to speak? She wasn't sure. He had yet to speak, but he groaned again, softly. _

"_Must you always get yourself into trouble?" her words were cautious, and he stumbled slightly when he tried to turn and look at her. She held him back. She wasn't sure if she wanted him to see her like this. For now she was content to hold him as he became aware of his surroundings. He'd obviously just become aware of where they were. He shivered at the cold, and she traced her hands lightly along his stomach, trying to warm him without letting him have a glimpse of her. _

"_What are we doing in Paris?"he was colder then she wished him to be, still. She was almost panicked about it. Although it was colder in the room, in this dream, she wasn't shivering. And his skin had an almost blueish tint to it. _

"_Maybe we were both looking for an escape. It is common for people to fall back on a pleasant memory to shelter themselves from-"_

"_Don't go all Ducky on me, Ziva. Not now," he whispered, his hands coming up to cover her own, their fingers intertwining easily. She inhaled deeply, trying to keep herself from losing her cool. He was present, that was for sure. It wasn't the Tony of her memories. Because this wasn't a memory. _

"_And yet,"she said simply, pressing harder against him, craving every bit of contact she could get. She didn't want to see his face, not yet. But he had other ideas. He was as much a willing participant of this dream as she was. _

"_Ziva,"he pressed out, attempting to turn around, and she held him still, her fingers grasping tightly at his. She inhaled shakily against his back, and pressed a soft kiss at the hollow between his shoulder blades. _

"_You hung up on me,"he commented softly, and she let out a soft laugh. Of all the things to mention, he had to bring up that? She sensed that it was important, but things were as fuzzy as they were clear at the moment. _

"_It is too dangerous. You are the Director…My God, Tony. What on earth got you to the point where you felt comfortable sitting at the top of the pyramid? You always-"_

"_It only takes one thing,"He reminded her softly, and she closed her eyes tightly. Her. She had been his last tether to having an attempt at a normal life. Hasad had told her. He drank too much, didn't talk to Gibbs. _

"_I am __**so**__ sorry," she stressed the words, her voice cracking as she fought back tears, "But this escape we are creating for ourselves, it will not slow things down, Tony. Things will continue to move on around us, as much as we would not wish them to. Trust me, I know,"she whispered against him, and he fidgeted. _

"_I saw a movie like this once,"He said, completely ignoring what she had told him. That should have been her first clue that something was wrong. _

"_Regardless of whether or not I get out of this situation Tony…she needs you. Sophia needs a father,"she could tell he was fighting the urge to leave the dream. She could smell the blood more strongly now. Clearly something was wrong with him. Why wasn't he fighting? Why wasn't he more snarky, more biting? _

"_I just want to stay here, with you, in this hotel room,"he whispered roughly,"I'm so tired, Ziva. Too tired, and I just-"she shook her head. This was not good. _

"_We will always have Paris, Tony. She will not always have a family. You of all people should know that!"she paused, hating what she was about to say,"No one, needs me, Tony. You have all survived this long, yes? She needs you. You both need each other," she pressed out, letting go of his hands and wrapping her hands around his middle again, holding him to her. _

"_That's bullshit. You know I need you. I needed you!"he said, his voice growing in volume. There he was. He was fighting for the wrong things, though. _

"_Life is life,"she breathed, and he scoffed. _

"_And what did you need, Zee?" he asked her, and she swallowed thickly, thinking of the best way to change the subject. _

"_You gotten on without me for how long, Tony?" she repeated, now unable to keep her tears at bay. _

"_Ziva, getting on, or getting by, isn't living,"he reminded her, as her tears soaked his back.,"God, you tried to tell me. You think it's easy to realize that you were forced into leaving? That you tried to tell me something was wrong and I was so blinded by my-"_

"_You didn't do this to me. You were supposed to believe the lie," she mumbled, sniffling. _

"_But I should have believed in you," he said back, pushing back against her, intent on seeing her face. _

"_I don't want you to see me,"she whispered, and he stopped moving, his hands clenching the railing in front of them. _

"_You don't want to see me?" he questioned, and she closed her eyes tightly. _

"_Tony…"she said, suddenly frozen with fear. She didn't want to see what she'd done to him. _

"_Please,"he managed, and she let go of him, turning away and walking towards the center of the room. _

"_Worry about her," Ziva told him,"I will be fine. I have survived this long."_

"_I just want to stay here," Tony told her again, and she shook her head. He was missing the point, again. _

"_You were always so stubborn! This is not reality! Do you think I would rather wake up? I would rather stay here as well but this is not, real," she managed,"What is so terrible that you would rather stay asleep then-"he was still facing the window when she turned around. There was a large gash on his shoulder, and he had bruises littering his body. _

"_Oh my God,"She whispered,"You, are you alright?" he ignored her again. He was swaying on his feet. _

"_I talked to you, didn't I?" he responded, and she bristled slightly. There he was again. His mind was all over the place. She had to keep him focused. _

"_Do not change the subject, Tony! What happened? You are hurt! I can-"he spun around, and their eyes met in the hazy light of the room for a moment before she canvassed his body. His pants were torn and bloody. But he looked relaxed, and that worried her. _

"_I'm tired. Maybe if I just lay down…"he walked towards the bet and sat on the edge of it, and she followed him quickly. _

"_No, you cannot lay down, Tony. Think! What happened?" she pressed out, and he shrugged. _

"_I always liked this bed,"he told her. _

"_Stay, awake!"she ground out. _

"_But we're not awake, you said so yourself, "he pointed out, slightly loopy, and glanced up at her face for a moment._

"_God, Ziva. We need to get some falafel in you. You're skin and bones…"he realized. _

"_I am finding it hard to eat, but that is not the point,"she said, annoyed. _

"_You look better, though. You cut your hair. It's so curly,"he reached up and fingered a strand of it, their eyes locked. _

"_Tony, concentrate, please…if ever there was a time for you to stop being so hyper, now would be it…what, happened?"she said, her hands on either side of him. He scooted up on the bed, and she sat over him._

"_We haven't been in this position in a while, have we Zee?" he commented lightly, and she groaned. _

"_Tony! Focus!"before she had thought to do anything else, she'd reached forward and grabbed his face, planting a kiss on his lips. She pulled away, and he looked gob smacked. _

"_Ziva David, you minx,"he breathed, and pulled her down before she could really think, their lips meeting again, hurriedly. All thoughts of trying to get Tony to concentrate were officially out the window. She'd craved this for years, and almost never dreamt about it. _

_His hands palmed her back, pulling her closer, and she let herself lay against him, despite her brain trying to lull her into consciousness again. _

"_Who says we'll ever get this chance again, we might as well grab it, right sweetcheeeks?" he breathed. It was then that she really saw how injured he was. Although he wasn't acting it, there were cuts and scrapes all over him._

"_Tony, what happened?"she asked breathlessly, and he shook his head. _

"_Doesn't matter, you're here-"he said, pulling her back down for another kiss, his hands skimming her back as she tried to pull away from him. _

"_If we stayed here forever, we wouldn't have to worry about anything, you know?" he voiced, and she closed her eyes tightly, willing the tears to not escape again. _

"_I wish it were that simple. You need to go back…whatever is holding you-"_

"_Who says its even possible for me to go back, Zee?" he said tiredly, letting her readjust herself so that she was cuddling against him instead of sitting on top of him, her head laying on his chest. She tried to sit up, and he pulled her back down. _

"_You cannot leave her,"she whispered, slightly panicked. _

"_She's just as bad as I am,"he said softly, his eyes drifting shut._

"_What?"she breathed,"Tony! What has happened to both of you? What is going on?"_

"_I'm tired, I'm just so tired of doing this without you,"he responded, and went slack. She panicked, sitting up and shaking him. _

"_Tony! Tony come back! Tony!"she screamed, and the room started to dissolve around her. As much as she wanted to stay, now, it was over. _

And now, she was sitting, shaking, staring at the open window as the cat at the foot of her bed stared at her, annoyed with her for disturbing her sleep. Ziva exhaled, glancing at the clock. It was 3am. Kelly was already at the coffee shop. She was alone, and she needed a drink. She padded into the kitchen, and stopped at the sink, pouring herself water instead of vodka as she pondered what had just happened. Was there a chance Tony was in trouble? It was just a dream. There was no way it was reality. No possible way. She held herself up over the sink, hanging her head down and trying to steady her breathing. The dream had shaken her. Maybe she should check the news, see if something had happened? No. that would be too obvious. What if they were already tracking the address? If McGee had gotten his hands on the blocked address, there was no telling how fast he'd be at the CIA ,asking too many questions. Perhaps he would just bypass their safeguards and find out the secret himself? That would not be good.

Either way she was screwed. It wouldn't hurt to look. She set the glass down, and walked towards the living room, her eyes scanning the room for Kelly's laptop, her brain swimming with the warnings that this was a bad idea. She should not be doing it. That was when her eyes caught the unfamiliar object sitting on the the kitchen counter. She picked it up, staring at the strange object. She'd seen it before. At Mike's house in Mexico. It was a small doll, carved into a skeletal shape, its wood smooth. Maybe Kelly had gotten it at the market. It seemed strange, either way. What was it doing there?

She shivered slightly, realizing that she'd left the window open when she'd come inside. As her mind unfogged further, she smelt gas. Kelly didn't ever use the stove. Her eyes widened, and she'd barely managed to sprint back to the bedroom before the house was rocked by an explosion. Well, clearly someone had figured out she was here. The cat awoke with a screech, jumping out of the window and onto the terrace, and Ziva stumbled, reaching blindly for the go bag that she had kept under her bed, full of the original money and documents she had managed to gather before she got to London. She threw the doll in her bag and climbed up on the bed as the smell of flames and gas assaulted her nostrils, barely managing to crawl out of the window before another explosion rocked the house, throwing her against the back garden wall. She groaned, and managed to her to her feet, everything aching.

Of course it was pouring rain. Thunder boomed overhead, and Ziva fought to stop shaking. She didn't want to move. She was petrified. Had the dream been an omen? She was wearing Kelly's pajamas, and slippers, and only had the things she had escaped Egypt with. What was she supposed to do now? The fire was growing closer, and she forced herself to move, scaling the wall and landing in the alley behind the house as the fire raged, car alarms going off and police sirens wailing nearby. She had to go somewhere. But where was she supposed to go? Kelly's coffee shop. Clearly they had been targeting her, right? She had to warn her. She made herself move down the street, limping and fighting the urge to just lay down and go to sleep. The only thing that stopped her is what would happen if she were to lose consciousness. If someone were to find her. Obviously she was a victim of the attack, but to a government that had thought she was dead for over 10 years? The outcome would not be good.

Her hands were shaking as she pounded on the back door of the coffee shop. Kelly had barely managed to open the door before Ziva fell over, trying to steady herself as her vision blurred. It would be so easy to fall asleep.

"House, explosion…have to hide,"she managed softly, her eyes sliding shut.

When she opened them again, she was surprised to feel like she was moving. She was. She was in the middle of the countryside, it looked like, and just glancing out the window made her so queasy that she shut her eyes tightly, clenching them away from all incoming light.

"Kelly?"she mumbled thickly,"Stop the car, I have to-"the car came to a halt, and she scrambled out of it, leaning over and throwing up the small amount in her stomach, her vision swimming as Kelly held her hair back.

"Are you alright? Obviously I didn't have time to stop for a doctor, I was afraid…"

"Where are we going?"Ziva asked groggily.

"To be honest I'm not sure. I thought we'd head west, towards the New World," Kelly quipped, and Ziva held her head in her hands, managing to sit on the edge of her seat, her feet toching the pavement lightly.

"Whose car…"Ziva was coherent enough to know that Kelly's car was toast.

"I stole my coworkers car. I hid you outside and told him I needed to run by the market for milk. That was four hours ago. I was hoping you'd wake up and complete my thought…but I figured getting away from the people that tried to blow us up was better then waiting like sitting ducks at the coffee shop," Kelly said this all in a rush, her eyes determined, and Ziva managed to almost laugh.

"Apparently espionage is genetic,"she remarked, taking the bottle of water that Kelly handed to her and taking a long sip, the water doing nothing to soothe her shaking or her thoughts.

"We need to stop for the night, Kelly, rest. I need to get cleaned up. You have the bag I brought with me?"she nodded, and Ziva sighed. They would get a hotel room, wherever they were. Then they would think out their next move.

"Where are we going to go?" Kelly asked her, once they were back in the car, Ziva fighting the urge to keep throwing up.

"Washington," Ziva said finally, as she pulled back on the road. Kelly shot her a look.

"Are you serious?" she questioned, and Ziva nodded slowly, afraid if she moved too quickly she'd get sick again.

"Just find a motel, and then we will make a plan," Ziva said, staring down at the bag between her legs, and what she now recognized as a Mexican Day of the Dead doll staring up at her. Why did that strike a chord? Who would leave that, knowing they would both die, and it would be incinerated. It wasn't even a clue that was meant to be. So why was it? And what did it mean?


End file.
